Candice City
by Boriqua-chan
Summary: The awkwardness of moving into a new town is rivaled only with the awkwardness of trying to forget your parents' death. Castiel/OC
1. Chapter 1

**I wrote this story, originally, for a game called Candy Love on the internet. www . mycandylove . com**

**:: ::**

I smiled at my new principal, holding onto my new bookbag tightly. The principal was a nice-looking elderly lady with long gray hair and brown eyes hidden by the glare of her circle glasses. She was pudgy, as most older women tended to be, and she wore a floral pink kimono that made me think she was Asian, but I couldn't really tell because her eyes were too small and her voice wasn't accented. "Are all my registration forms in order?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know, sweetie," the sweet elderly lady said. She had a smile on her wrinkled face. "You should ask Nathaniel, he's the student body president. He works with most of the paperwork. We staff need brakes too every now and then, you know. Where's your _āyí_, your auntie?"

I grinned. "Working, of course," I replied. My auntie, Sarah, was a party agent, though sometimes I think she took her job too seriously. Sometimes she showed up dressed like a princess or a bunny rabbit, depending on what the theme of her party was. She usually only took children's party jobs. She was incredibly childish. She was fun to be around. "She said she'll stop by, though, if that's what you're wondering."

She smiled. "Well, do you want to go talk to Nathaniel or would you like a tour of the school?"

"I'll go to the student body president, if you don't mind, Mrs.…" I scratched the back of my neck and frowned. "Well, I never did catch your name."

The principal smiled, like a loving grandmother at the antics of her youngest grandchild. It made me feel warm inside. "The students here call me Mrs. Wan Gong," she said, "but seeing as you…_need a friend_, you can call me Lin Yao."

The mention of my parents' death put a sour scowl on my face. The entire reason I was in Candice City was because of my parents' recent, tragic deaths. They died in a car accident. I'd been shipped off first opportunity to my godmother's house—just so happened that my godmother was my aunt. I nodded, no longer feeling friendly or welcomed. I felt bitter—bitter and dead. Mrs. Wan Gong's mention of my mother and father had me just as dead as they were.

"Yeah, um, thanks," I answered curtly, doing my best not to appear rude. I pointed at the door to my right. "Council room, right?"

Mrs. Wan Gong nodded and I nodded back, brushing past her to go meet her Nathaniel.

A guy, tall and lean, was bent over a few towers of files. "Uh, hey, have you seen Nathaniel around here?" I asked, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. I just wanted to be enrolled and start life as normally as possible. I wanted to forget everything.

The guy jumped up and turned around. He had blonde hair and honey brown eyes; he was just as tall as I expected and sinewy muscles lined his arms and chest. A white dress shirt covered the expanse of his arms and chest. He had a sky blue tie and a pair of skinny blue jeans. He rubbed the back of his neck, as if I'd scared him.

I probably had; I didn't look exactly like a ray of sunshine. My hair was short, and in its perfect black ringlets it reached the tip of my pointed chin. I had violet eyes, set in a permanent narrow glare. My nose was small and my perky lips were set in a natural glower when I wasn't controlling my facial muscles. I wasn't exactly dressed for school either, in a pair of short white gym shorts and rumpled white tank top. I was sure I looked like an angry mess. Naturally, I actually looked pretty mean. Right now, I didn't care.

Nevertheless, the guy smiled at me, his eyes closed and head tilted kindly. "That would be me," he said.

I tried to smile at him, but it wasn't in me. I imagined it looked like a grimace. "Hey, can you give me my registration forms so I can fill them out?" I wondered. I leaned on my left foot, scratching the fabric of my bag with my nails. "I need to fill them out."

Nathaniel frowned, but searched in one of his filing cabinet towers and pulled out a folder. "Alise Sanders," he named the file in his hand. "You, right?"

"Bingo."

The blonde came over and gave them to me. "You'll need to get a school photo ID and, because it's late, you'll need to pay a twenty-five dollar fee." His voice sounded apologetic, but I didn't think he knew anything about me or my parents, and that made me like him more. He grinned just as remorsefully. "Come back when you get it all, alright?"

"Got ya, Mr. President," I answered. I swiveled on my tennis shoes and waved at him without turning around. "See ya."

I pushed through the door and frowned, closing my eyes to the incoming headache. They seemed to come about a lot. The sound of shoes pounding on the school's tile floors made me open my eyes. Down the halls, bowl-cut Kentin from my old school came running. If confusion had a face, I swear it would've been mine. His thick glasses looked fogged, like they always did when they saw me. It made my tan cheeks blush visibly.

Ken raced down the hall, tripping over his untied sneaker shoes as he so often did. I ran down to catch him; I didn't want the poor guy breaking his nose. He was fragile as it was. "Alise!" he shouted, practically leaning into my arms as I tried to keep my distance. "Hi! I was beginning to think you weren't going to register!"

I sighed exasperatedly. "What are you doing here, Ken?" I groaned, but I don't think he noticed. He never noticed the small hints; I never wanted to be mean though. I might end up having to be. I did my best to straighten him, trying to keep my distance. Ken didn't seem to understand.

Ken smiled at me. He was shorter than I was, surprisingly. Puberty hadn't quite caught up with him, even in high school. "I heard you transferred schools, so I decided I might join you," he announced. His thick glasses didn't let me see his eyes, but I could imagine them reflecting the same smile he had on his face. He kept close and I tried to move away, but the more I did the closer he got. "I didn't think you'd want to be in a new school alone, so I thought maybe we could go through it together." Ken smiled, thinking he looked very much like knight in shining armor.

"Um, yeah," I muttered uncomfortably. Kentin was a sweetheart and he meant well but sometimes he took things too far. Leaving me without personal space? A bit uncomfortable, but otherwise okay, I guess. Following me out of the state to go to my school? Strange, stinking of stalker. "Thanks…?"

An ear to ear grin was my answer.

I tried to step away from him. "Well, I've got to go," I said, uneasy. I toyed with my ear and ran off. The school was huge, but I was pretty sure I could at least find someone to tell me the way back. I ran out the enormous school doors and into the even bigger courtyard.

The place was amazing, a tiny little garden to decorate and clean, fresh asphalt coating the ground. I heard the comforting sound of an electric B Minor and I scanned the courtyard for the person playing the guitar. It ended sourly, making my face twist. I saw a head of red hair bent over a black guitar in the corner of the courtyard. A leather jacket with a popped collar covered the person's face, but I knew it was a guy from the way the fingers stroked the guitar.

I had all day to finish the registration forms, but I might never see this guy again and I could see how frustrated he was getting at his B Minor. Sighing, because if I were him I'd be pretty pissed at myself too, I walked over, sitting next to him on the stone bench. "Wanna fix that B?" I asked.

The redhead looked up at me. Okay, so maybe looked was too light a term. He examined me with suspicious gray eyes. He had high cheekbones and pink-tinted skin; a strong, straight nose decorated the center of his face. It had a little bump, as if it'd been broken in a fight. He had strong muscles that couldn't be described as anything lanky. The leather jacket really did wonders for him, and the red shirt that complemented his every move didn't kill him either. "Did I ask for your help?" he snapped snarkily.

"No, but that guitar did," I answered, with just as much attitude. I waited for an answer, but none came. I smirked at him, tossing a curl out of my face. People told me I was beautiful in a mean way and right now I really hoped that was true. It would help me right now. I pointed at his hand. "Move that finger higher."

The guy glared at me, but his finger moved anyway.

"Try again," I told him.

The B minor sounded amazing, and it made me grin. The redhead, however, scowled at me. "Lucky guess," he snorted.

"Lucky?" I snorted. "Hand it over, I'll show you lucky."

I didn't wait for his answer; I fought the expensive-looking guitar from his grip. He didn't fight back, for fear of breaking it. When I held it in my arms, I understood why. It was a Gibson USA Joan Jett Blackheart; it sold for a whapping $1,533. Its body was solid mahogany; it was made to the design of the Melody Maker of the early to mid '60s, with two cutaways for exceptional access to the neck's upper frets. It was amazing to say the least. I'd wanted it since it first came out; I'd researched it so much I'd memorized every section of its bio. The mahogany offered a nice, rich, warm sound and it made me melt. It was really light—four, five pounds at most. It had an ebony finish that made it soft to the touch.

I caressed the headstock for a second before leaning over the beautiful Joan Jett Blackheart and play three notes before playing the Plain White T's Airplane. He let me play the whole two minutes of the song. When I was done, I didn't feel like running away from the school anymore. I felt relaxed, comfortable. I wanted to keep going, play another song. But I didn't. I handed over the coveted Joan Jett Blackheart and said, "Now _that's_what I call luck!" I hadn't missed a single note.

The redhead guitarist snorted. "You new kids like to come in and rule everything don't you?" he growled.

"Are you always this nice?"

He scowled, making the guitar comfortable in his arms again. "Especially to you new kids," he snarled. He examined me again, and I suddenly felt very conscience of my outfit. It exposed a lot of skin. I blushed, averting my purple gaze. "I'm Castiel," he said.

I turned my eyes back to him, but I could still feel the warmth of my cheeks. "That's more like it. I'm Alise." I put my hand out to him and he reluctantly shook it. "Do you know where I could get a school ID?"

His gray eyes made me feel a bit stupid when he said, "A place with a picture booth, maybe."

I scowled at him. "No duh, smart one," I growled back. "Where in this godforsaken Candice City is there a picture booth?"

Castiel looked lightened; he smirked at me. "Dollar store," he answered. His eyes darted down to the amazing guitar; he played the perfected B minor and humphed, pleased with himself.

"Thanks," I said. "Happen to have twenty-five bucks on you I could borrow?" I didn't want to go running to my auntie yet. I didn't want to burden her.

The redhead raised one eyebrow. "Do I _look_like an ATM?"

I stood up from the bench, placing a longing hand on the Blackheart's ebony body. "Only hurts my pride to ask," I sighed. I turned around in the direction of the dollar store. I'd seen it on my way to meet Mrs. Wan Gong. I didn't start school until tomorrow, so that was probably why no one was jumping down my throat about the dress code. "Practice that B minor!" I shouted back to him, walking away.


	2. Chapter 2

**:: ::**

It was a short walk to the Dollar Store, which was a few streets down the corner, I had finally found out from the ever-so-helpful redheaded Castiel who couldn't figure out how to make a decent B-minor without my help. Aunt Sarah had called in a favor to the clerk and owner to put it on her tab. I hadn't been aware of that, but the second I entered the little local business, the clerk had called my name, a thick and happy grin on his face. He took my picture, handed it over, and then sent me on my way, leaving me with a confused look on my face.

Nevertheless, I had my picture now.

I walked home. My short talk with Castiel had made me realize how much skin I exposed. So I gave a smile at my new neighbor and stormed my way into the house. My aunt's house was pretty in a simplistic way, so unlike Auntie Sarah. The living room had one single painted wall the color of a good apple wine. It was a calm, mellowed color that had been there when Sarah had moved in. I knew it annoyed her, but Auntie was too lazy to change it herself; she said it would be something she and I did one day: Slap colorful paint wherever it fell and call it art. Those were actually her exact words. It'd made me laugh.

There was a large, three-person couch that was more my aunt's style: It was a burgundy color with little threads of yellows and greens. It was comfortable place to sit, a place to curl up with a book and a hot cup of chocolate. It smelled like that, too: Hot chocolate. Probably from all the times Aunt Sarah had spilled it all over the poor couch. Next to that couch was a mismatched arm-chair. It was the color of her spilled chocolate and leather. It was facing diagonally to the little flat-screen sitting on the side of the staircase, which ran from the right of the back wall to the left side. A few paintings were on the diagonal wall. Paintings made by me when I was little.

On the coffee table, a picture of Sarah and Mom when they were little rested. The five-year-old version of Mom grinned a cheeky grin at me; it was the kind of grin I was never capable of. She smiled, her green eyes shut tight, the dimple in her cheek dipping. She looked so innocent. Sarah's young version had Mom under her arm, looking ready to give a noogie. But she was smiling too, the dimple in her chin coming out as well. Next to it, a picture of me as a baby rested. I pawed up at something invisible, eyes closed, mouth in a wide, yawning O.

I smiled at the pictures for a second, then walked up the stairs. My room was the third to the right. There were butterflies everywhere. I liked butterflies. When I first moved in last week, they were pink. I hated pink, so first-thing, I grabbed my acrylic paints and redid the winged creatures in black. The drawers were pink too, so I blacked them out too. I sold the pink rug second thing. Then I smiled up at my auntie and told her everything was perfect. Everything that wasn't black was white and when we could afford to get the walls painted, the walls would be purple.

My closet was small, just big enough for any clothes I brought and just some left over for any more I would like to add or buy. I had a few outfits. My favorite included a midriff leather jacket with long rumpled sleeves. I looked like an epic biker-chick. I pulled off a greenish-blue sleeveless turtleneck shirt with a triangle in the center, exposing just a tiny bit of cleavage. A pair of black shorts hung on a hanger. I got dressed. I pushed my thin-rimmed glasses up on my nose and snapped the collar of my jacket. I got a pair of boots out of the closet and donned them too.

There.

Now I felt better, less exposed. I had no problem exposing my legs; I liked my legs, they were nice and long. The layers on my chest made me feel safer.

Contently dressed, I went back out, locking the door behind me. The courtyard that entered the school was amazing, leaving me breathless again. I smiled. Castiel was still there, picking away at his Joan Jett Blackheart. My heart ached for that guitar. I took a deep breath and walked to him. "Hey," I said.

Castiel gave me a nod of acknowledgment, and I had a feeling that was all I'd get from him.

I groaned. "Hey, you, redhead," I called. "A hello would be _amazing_, you know?" I saw the corners of his lips quirk. "A smirk works _almost_ as well," I allowed. My fingers played with the softness of the leather sleeves. I usually wasn't a talkative person; I was happy with companionable silence, most of the time. But I was new here, and meeting this one redhead had made me feel as if I wasn't as alone as I thought I was. If I were him, I'd be pretty dang annoyed with me. I knew that. But I couldn't help myself; I sensed a kindred spirit. So I plopped myself down next to him on a bench. "You know any songs?" I asked.

That peaked his interest. "I know a few," he admitted. Then he took a look at me. His gaze made me uncomfortable, like he was uncovering the deepest sides of myself to him with just a single look. Like I was naked. I shifted my weight. I didn't like that he could make me feel like that when I'd only met him once before. Castiel frowned. "None you would like."

I shrugged. "Try me," I challenged.

Castiel couldn't resist a challenge. He gave me a triumphant smirk. "Alright," he agreed. His fingers strummed a cord as he thought. Most likely thinking of a song I'd be least likely to know, let alone like. Then a light bulb went off in his head and he started playing. I could name it right away.

"Practice Makes Perfect by Cute Is What We Aim For," I named, a smile on my face. Castiel's fingers stopped and he looked at me, one of his red brows lifted, a look that said he was impressed on his face. I frowned. "Who told you to stop, redhead?"

Castiel smirked at me and started to play again, singing. I grinned at him and sang with him.

His deep voice covered the song in chocolate, singing it almost as well as the lead. For about four minutes, the world was perfect. Just me, Castiel, the Joan Jett Blackheart, and Cute Is What We Aim For's lyrics. For about four minutes, Castiel actually looked like he didn't mind my presence. Then I was brought back to the world and there was nothing but adequate tolerance for me.

But I smiled, warily, at him anyway. "Why'd you choose that song?" I wondered.

Castiel shrugged; his red hair fell in the way of his eyes. "It's one of my favorites," he admitted, as if it were no big deal. But I saw in the way he adverted his gray eyes that having told me this was unexpected to him. I doubted he so much as told others his favorite color, let alone song.

_Just like me,_ something in the back of my head told me. I ignored it and smiled at him. "Well, now I know we've got something in common."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Great," he snorted. "Just what I wanted."

"Damn right it is," I agreed. I pulled myself off the bench and stuffed my hands in my pockets, leaning back slightly on the balls of my feet. He gazed up at me for a second, rolling his eyes, then turned his attention back to the Joan Jett Blackheart. I gazed upon the beauty of his guitar longingly before turning away. I waved at him just as I had this morning. "Peace out, girl scout!" I shouted over my shoulder.

I heard a soft rumble of his complaints at being called a girl. I grinned and walked into the school. That boy had a voice of pure gold. The hallway was empty and quiet when I entered it, unlike this morning when Mrs. Wan Gong had been there to imminently greet me. There were no windows in this main hallway, like there had been at my old school. This place was closed in on all sides, making my skin tingle with the beginnings of claustrophobia. I walked into the student council room, not only did it have windows but the school president was bound to be there.

The window looked out into what I thought was the school garden, green and fertile-looking; it made the claustrophobic shiver that ran down my spine go away. Nathaniel was sitting at the head of the circular table, papers spread all around. His cheeks were flushed an angry red and he ran a hand through his golden hair, a bitter sound escaping his lips. He grabbed a page off to his right, apparently not noticing me, and threw it down in front of him, almost growling at it.

I frowned lightly, curiosity and slight worry sneaking into my emotions. "Hey..." I said awkwardly, making my presence known. "No need to beat up the papers. They're only messengers."

Nathaniel glanced up, the annoyed flush of his cheeks spreading through his face in embarrassment. "Oh, eh, hey, Alise," he greeted, awkwardly standing up from his work. He rubbed his neck. "Did you get your school ID?"

I pulled out a laminated picture from my pocket. "Yes," I told him, waving it around. "Would you by any chance happen to need it?"

He gave me a small grin. "I actually do," he said. He reached out for the picture and I handed it to him. He glanced at it for a second and smiled at me. "You take nice pictures," he complemented.

I swallowed, shifting my weight and averting my eyes. I rubbed my arm, pressing my lips together.

Nathaniel's smile slipped off a bit when I didn't answer, but it came back into place as he filed the picture away. He gave me that smile and sat back down, apparently seeing no reason for me to stay any longer.

I sat down a few chairs away from him and lifted a paper. It was the school's budget. My eyes widened a bit, but I tried playing it down. It didn't fool Nathaniel. He saw my expression and humphed a bit, leaning back in his chair. It was no wonder he was upset; the school was broke. _Flat out broke._ Sure, it had enough for maybe a couple of pencils and new textbooks, but that was about it. None left over for after-school functions or even the epic dance Aunt Sarah told me this school always had. "_Yikes_," I said.

Nathaniel frowned. "I know."

I shuffled through the other papers. In my old school, I wasn't exactly school president, but I knew a little bit about the on-goings; my friend Lizzy had been the school prez and she hadn't exactly been silent about the happenings. "How are you going to raise money? This school needs it."

"Are you insulting my school?" he asked, arching a brow. I shrugged. Nathaniel shook his head. He took a paper from my hand. "I have no idea," he admitted.

I pouted for a second, leaning back in my chair and thinking. Out of the window overlooking the garden, kids were pulling things out of a dirty pick-up truck. "How about a car wash?" I asked. I'd seen the kids in this school; they would _all_ look pretty good in a bathing suit. And horny men wanting to relive their youth by watching teenage girls clean their cars with their breasts always brought in truckloads of cash. Perverted lusty mothers always brought a few bucks in too.

Nathaniel rose an eyebrow at me. Yeah, I probably sounded rather perverted at the moment. I felt Nathaniel's gaze rack over my body for a second before I looked up at him. "Sounds like a good idea," he agreed. A scarlet blush rose to my cheeks and I looked away. "Would you like to help me plan it?"

"How about I just show up and help when it is planned?"

Nathaniel shrugged, but he smiled at me. "I promise to be your first customer."

I blushed again and rolled my eyes. "All you teenage boys are the same," I complained, grinning slightly. I piled the papers together and handed them over to him.

The blonde shrugged again, looking shied. "I guess you could say we all have good taste."

I stood up, rolling my eyes at him again. "Or hyperactive penises."

Nathaniel's face lit up like a Christmas tree, but he grinned at me. "Or that," he agreed. His light brown eyes looked paler compared to the tomato-red blush that dusted his cheeks. He had hairline trigger-phrases, apparently. Innuendos were fine, but saying the names painted his cheeks red. Huh. I would never understand teenage boys.

I gave him a grin and walked out the door, ready to go home. There wasn't much for me to do today. The school was about the be let out, so maybe I'd stay outside with Castiel until they did so I could meet them.

The school bell rang. Kids spilled out of the classrooms, looking eager to run out into their next classes. By this time tomorrow, I'd be heading for art. I'd already gotten my schedule. I shoved my hands in my pockets and started walking out. I kept my gaze down, trying desperately not to let these people that I didn't know see me. Maybe tomorrow I'd be more outgoing and like my usual self, but at the moment I didn't want a teacher confusing me with the students right now.

Because of that, I bumped into someone. My head snapped up at the impact. I opened my mouth to apologize, but the blonde snapped at me. "Watch where you're going, emo-dweeb," she shouted.

One of my eyebrows rose at the sound of her rudeness. So she was one of _those_ girls. I'd gotten into my fair share of fights with _those_ girls. I'd also gotten out of them without so much as a scratch. "Sor_ry_," I apologized sarcastically. I rolled my weight onto the balls of my feet. "I didn't see the five feet and seven inches of pure _bitch_ in my way."

The girl looked scandalized. I smirked at her, crossing my arms. She looked like one of those girls who had a posse on her at all times; the fact that she didn't now was either very good or very bad news. It struck me for a second that her hair was the exact same shade as Nathaniel's, but I didn't hover on that much.

"Tch," I scoffed at her and walked away. "Sorry if I got any of my _emo _on you," I called over my shoulder.

The sun shone strong outside. I expected to see Castiel outside, plucking away at his heart-melting guitar. I'd forgotten he was a student in the Candice City High School. I frowned, sighing. Guess I'd have to go home after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own _nothing._ Heaven only knows that mycandlove would _not_ be child appropriate if I did. In fact, I'm sure it would rival all other sexual games. But. Alise _is _mine. Castiel _is _hers. So, in a way, I own Castiel. All of my yessss.**

**:: ::**

My guitar was old, beat up. It was one of those you could buy at any Walmart. The strings were pulled tight and I was afraid they would snap at any minute. But until I could afford a new one, it would hold up. I hoped. It still sounded good enough. It didn't loose any of the chocolate silk Castiel's Gibson, but it was decent for what I got it at. Touching it's cool wood grounded me for a while, and I plucked at the strings for a few seconds before delving into Mom's favorite song. It was a slow song; I didn't know the title or the lyrics, but the notes were forever burned into my head.

When the song was over, I rested myself against the sloppily painted black headboard and sighed. My throat hurt. I hadn't sang a single word, and yet I felt as if I had shouted the unknown lyrics. My throat was sore and my fingers were heavy, resting on the strings of my guitar, watching the little particles in my eye fluid dance. I didn't move a muscle, but suddenly I felt as if I'd looked around the room, at my new life, and decided I didn't want this. I _didn't_ want this. I didn't want to be _here_, in this room, in this house, in this _state_.

I wanted to be home, sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace, playing the notes to some song lost to the trails of time with my dad; listening to my mother whistle along because she didn't know how to play an instrument but she did know every single sound vibrating from Dad's guitar and mine.

I wanted to be in the kitchen with Mom, rolling up Dough Boy crescents for dinner; watching Mom beat the meat as she bit her lip, thinking of how delicious it was to make food with her daughter; tossing a cake into the oven.

I wanted to be with my dad on Take Your Child To Work Day, helping him teach the guitar to the middle schoolers; watching him banter back and forth with his teacher coworkers, joining in once in a while; hugging him for taking me out of school.

I wanted to be in my room, Skullcandy headphones pressed to my ears, listening to everything from classical to hard rock to punk.

I wanted to be in Lizzy's room, gossiping like the ditzy teenagers we were; trading secrets; silently surfing the web; complaining about school.

I wanted to be in the middle of my old school's hall, fighting loudly with Tobiah then laughing it off as cousins' banter, which we weren't even; mussing through my locker for my gym clothes even; trying to fight off Kentin.

I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to be starting a whole new life. I wanted my old one. It hadn't had anything wrong with it, so why had it been taken from me? Why had the world ripped the most important things from me, thrown me into a city where I knew all of one person, and left me there to possibly wither up and die? I didn't even mind the dying part; I wouldn't have cared if I had ended up six feet under—so long as it was _me_ and _not_ Mom; so long as it was _me_ and _not _Dad.

So long as it was just _me_.

No one else.

_Me._

I wouldn't mind that. I would welcome it. If that meant saving my parents' lives, then of course I'd give up my life for theirs. And I'd do it _gladly._

But no, that had not been the card fate had dealt me with. Instead it'd made me face a much harder fate than death: Life. Life without the people who had raised me. It had made me face the horror of _new_, of the unknown, and it had made me do it without anyone's help but Aunt Sarah's. For that one familiarity, I was grateful. At least fate hadn't made me go on to a completely new place with no one; I had my auntie. The all of one person I knew.

My eyes stung, prickling with the thousand acupuncture needles of tears in hiding. Tears that would not come out, no matter how desolate I became. Tears _I_ would not let out. Tears I was too strong for. I took a deep breath, defying the weight that had suddenly appeared on my chest. I moved my fingers off the strings of my guitar, defying the starch that had suddenly made them stiff. I stood up, defying the jello my legs had become.

Defiance was the one way to deal with the depression that was inevitable.

I sighed, defying my body once more. It was time for a walk around Candice City. Maybe that would help get my mind off of things. My phone was on my desk, and I grabbed it up and stuffed it into my pocket, deciding that if Aunt Sarah needed me, she knew my number. She herself had said I could do whatever I needed to do today. And I needed to get out.

The door locked automatically behind me when I left the house, but my keys were latched to a belt-loop on my lap so I didn't exactly worry. Maybe if this town had a Michael's or a simple cafe, I could escape my thoughts.

My mind pictured Castiel's strong face when I thought of escaping my thoughts. I rolled my eyes at myself; I hadn't known him for even a day, didn't even know more about him than his name and favorite song. What the hell was I doing looking to him as an escape? He should be part of the problem. He was new. He wasn't Tobiah, he wasn't Lizzy. He _wasn't_ an escape and he'd made it very clear he didn't want to be.

I walked around aimlessly. Once I left the little neighborhood of suburban houses, the roads plummeted into the town. Most of the streets were straight, teeing off at predictable places. Others weren't. Others wound in around themselves then deteriorated into dirt roads, heading off into the thin forest that separated Candice City from the neighboring Elliot City. Everything worth going to was within walking distance. Candice City was one of the first settlements, so it was named "city" regardless of how small it was—and remains—and no one had ever, apparently, thought to rename it. I guess Candice Town doesn't have as nice a ring to it as Candice City.

The nickname for Candice was Candy. Which made me want candy. Badly.

Either I was going nuts or was PMS-ing. Which was pretty much the same. Chocolate sounded really nice right now. Which was lucky, because a general store was right around the corner, and general stores usually had truckloads of candy and chocolate. I had ten bucks in my bra; that should be enough. So I went inside the little store, so much different than Mr. Harris's Dollar Shop. It had a little bit of everything: Candy, lawn ornaments, kitchen utensils, school items, food, clothes—the list went on.

I went to pay for my six bags of chocolate and assorted candies—I was gonna need tons of it, I knew, as I was moody, hungry girl when it was that time of the month. There was only one register open and I walked to eat, eager to rip open a Zero bar and gorge myself until I was sick. Defying my body yet again by stuffing my face. I needed to do that. Defiance made me feel better, even if it made me sick.

I looked up from my goodies to see Castiel. I blinked in surprise—both at seeing him and at the bubbly feeling that erupted through me suddenly, making euphoria tug at my every nerve ending. I didn't feel like defying anything. I did, however, still feel like stuffing a Zero down my throat. But that was just the PMS cravings. I didn't smile at him; I just looked up at him—because he was so much _taller _than I was—too shocked to really give him an expression other than the wide eyes of shock.

"Feeding a mob?" he asked, almost scoffing.

The dull _beep_ of the scanner sounded. I looked down at my goodie bags. A side of my mouth tilted up. "I'm feeding myself," I admitted with no remorse whatsoever. I was just _craving_ that Zero bar right now.

Castiel rose a red brow. I noticed that, curiously, his eyes looked like a murky, dull brown up close. The brown that could pass for gray. He tossed the king sized Zero that he'd just scanned into a bag; I grabbed it before it could even fall, tearing it open. I almost moaned at the nutty taste. God, that was _good._ "Yeah, because you can eat all that." He really did snort this time.

I smirked at him. "Would you like to watch me?" I challenged, raising a brow to copy his expression. His eyes looked beautifully gray-brown. I bit my Zero bar again, closing my eyes in appreciation. That filled that empty feeling I had at home; the empty feeling that seeing Castiel had made almost nonexistent. _Almost_. I hated that. He should make me feel like that—completed—even partially. This was the third time I'd ever seen him. It shouldn't feel like he fit into that hole my parents left. My eyes opened to see his half-lidded, looking over me appreciatively. I liked that.

I hated that I liked that.

"Would I like to watch a ninety pound girl eat enough candy to turn her into a hippo?" Castiel wondered aloud, eying me as I chewed challengingly on my Zero. He rose one of his red brows again, rising to the challenge I posed. "I don't see why the hell not."

I chuckled lightly. The side of my mouth lifted up again in a small smirk. "Come around next week then," I offered, teasingly. "I'll probably eat all this candy, the furniture in my house, then I'll go door to door to nibble on the sofas." Heaven knew Mr. Harris was going to be seeing plenty of me. An embarrassing amount. "I'll probably break an eating world record."

Castiel almost laughed at that. He gave me a genuine smile, a bubble of air slipping through his lips, and rolled his eyes. His smile lit up his face. He pulled back from me and I jumped slightly; I hadn't realized we'd been leaning over the checkout counter, closer to each other. A blush flamed my cheeks and I felt a quick moment of erythrophobia before Castiel offered me another smile. He didn't seem the type to smile.

I handed him the money and grabbed my single bag full of other bags, one-handed. I looked down at my second hand sadly. There was enough left for exactly one mouthful. "You want the last bit?" I asked, though I was sure my sad tone said that I didn't really want to share.

The redhead chuckled at me, nodding his head at the Zero bar. "Go ahead and stuff your face."

I looked at him as if he were my own personal savior. "Oh, thank you," I said, dropping the bite into my mouth and chewing it not-so-thoroughly before swallowing.

Another one of Castiel's low, almost soundless chuckles reached my ears. "Keep opening your mouth that wide and you'll be real popular real fast," he claimed. If I thought it was actually possible, I'd say he was teasing me.

I rested my palms on the cashier table's edge, leaning forward on them. "Only _certain_ people get to see that," I assured him. I grinned at him, reaching up on my tiptoes to ruffle the silken red locks of his hair. His roots were black. I stood on my feet again to see a scowl on his face. I returned his earlier favor of smiling at me. "Your roots are showing, by the way." I studied him for a long while before deciding, "I think red's really hot, really I do, but au natural is much, _much_ sexier."

Castiel's brown-gray eyes widened, a bit shocked.

I left him like that, walking away back to Aunt Sarah's house.

These next two weeks were going to be really, _really _hard if a guy as arousing as _Castiel_ was going to be around most of the time.

I dug into the bag and grabbed a Kit-Kat.

Ugh. PMS-ing sucked.

**:: ::**

Aunt Sarah was home when I got there. She sat on the chocolate-smelling sofa, wrapped in a robe, drinking hot chocolate and staring at the TV. A soft music played from the television; I knew the notes. They were from Mom's favorite song.

_Would you know my name_

_If I saw you in heaven?_

I swallowed. The melody now had lyrics.

_Would you feel the same_

_If I saw you in heaven?_

I ached. These were the notes of the first part. This was the beginning. This was the song without words. The television screen's first picture, the one I didn't see, turned into one of Mom and Sarah. The one in her picture frame. Their matching dimples.

_I must be strong and carry on_

_'Cause I know I don't belong here in heaven_...

My throat tightened. The acupuncture needles were back, pricking the back of my eyes. I felt the need to sob, but I didn't have the air to. That picture changed into one of Mom, a pompom in both hands, arms extended into the air. The Sweet Amoris High emblem was on her left side, covering her heart. I expected to see Dad somewhere in the background; I wasn't used to seeing her in pictures without Dad or Sarah. I didn't though; Mom and Dad hadn't met until college. Dad was studying to be a music teacher and Mom to be an art teacher.

_Would you hold my hand_

_If I saw you in heaven?_

This picture rewound back into Mom's elementary school days. She held a painting proudly in her hands, displaying an amazingly detailed unicorn. Her eyes were closed, a smile on her gap-toothed face.

_Would you help me stand_

_If I saw you in heaven?_

I couldn't watch anymore. I swallowed deeply and made myself walk, ever so calmly, up to my room. My footsteps were calm and collected—everything I wasn't. I jumped into my bed, grabbing my pillow and holding it as if it held all the secrets. As if it could make this pain go away. As if it were Castiel. I sobbed into the pillow, holding it tighter and tighter with each sob. I sat there for hours, until the sun was sinking and the moon was rising; until Auntie Sarah didn't feel like it was right to leave me alone; until each of her comforting words melded together like melted medal. Until everything just slipped away and I was asleep.

A tear never escaped my eyes.

I didn't know if I was proud of that or not.

**:: ::**

**The song is called Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton. That song owns my heart right now.**


	4. Chapter 4

**:: ::**

It was dark outside when I woke up. I wondered for a second if I'd slept through the last two days, because it really did feel like it. I'd have missed the first two days of my new school. Somehow, that didn't seem like to big of a loss. My skin was pulled taut across my cheekbones; I felt as if saltwater had dried on them, but they obviously hadn't because when I touched my face, wondering if I'd actually teared, they came away dry. My face wasn't even sticky.

I turned around in the darkness of my room, searching for the clock. The white LED light told me it was four in the morning, on the day exactly after I'd fallen asleep. The light also told me that the alarm was off, which was odd, because I'd turned it on sometime before I left to see Mrs. Wan Gong. There was a yellow sticky-note on top of the snooze button. In Auntie Sarah's thick, inelegant scrawl that bared no resemblance at all to the thin, tastefully swirling script of her party-planner self, the note said, "_You're probably freaking because you're late for school. Go back to sleep, honey."_

I rolled my eyes. Of course she thought I should skip today. She was _Sarah_. Irresponsibility was her thing. She was childish and fun. She thought skipping would make everything better as I adjusted to Candice City and pranced around town like a girl that had never in her life experienced grief. She wasn't like me. I had to get back to normal as soon as possible, to get used to what would soon become my new normality. But even though she didn't exactly _get_ me, I smiled, because she was trying.

I had to try too. Try to move on.

I grabbed my phone. It was natural and _normal_ to skip directly to the T's. Tobiah's name had the little tilde symbol next to it. I texted him because he woke up to the slightest noise. _Wake up, Tobi,_ I'd sent him, then rubbed my eyes against the brightness of the phone, grumbling. My arms felt like led even as I pushed back the thin little quilt that Auntie had covered me in when I'd fallen asleep. I needed to take a shower, just to loosen the tightness I felt spreading all across my body. I grabbed a pair of underwear and a bra, figuring I could get dressed later and that if Aunt Sarah woke up early she was family so what did it matter.

I filled the tub with scalding water, because I _needed_ it _hot_. My phone buzzed when I was slipping into the almost overfilled tub. _Go 2 bed,_ the message said.

_You've got to wake up soon,_ I sent. _It's four._ Tobiah usually woke up at five.

The warmth of the water penetrated every pore of my body, easing the tautness of my skin with a scalding idleness. I ducked my head quickly underwater, my black hair sinking slowly with me. I felt some sort of relief as the water knit through the strands of my hair. It took a few minutes before the heard the buzz of my cell again, loud enough to be heard through the water. I resurfaced to dry my hands.

_Time diff, _the boy reminded me. _It's MIDNIGHT_ _here midg._

I frowned. I'd forgotten about that. _Please. I need to talk to you._ I sank back down under, letting out a breath to watch the bubbles drift upwards. It reminded me of what I used to do when I was little. I used to bring a silly straw and blow air into the water so I could watch the bubbles up and pop on the surface.

The phone vibrated. _Ur lucky i love u wats up midg._

_It isn't like you want to go to school anyway,_ I typed. I wanted to tell him about the slide-show, about the song, but it sounded weak in my thoughts. I didn't know how to start. I wished I did. I wished he were here so I wouldn't _have_ to explain, because he would see it in my eyes, because he was just _that good_. Tobiah was a year older than me; his parents had been good friends with mine, so much so that I'd called them Aunt Helen and Uncle George. The whole school thought we were cousins, and neither of us had gone out of our way to correct them. He was a good guy. I knew him better than the back of my hand. My parents were so comfortable with him that they let me sleep over at his house—_had_ been.

The reminder was like cold water; it chilled me even inside the burning water. I was shivering inside the bathtub. My lip trembled.

The phone buzzed. _True, _the message read. _Wats up cuz._

_I know you too well._

I lathered soap over my body, realizing that I was sweating in my sleep. I usually wasn't a sweaty sleeper. If I had sweat, it was because I'd had a bad dream. I was glad I didn't remember it. The soap smelt of cocoa, sharp and bitterly sweet. I liked cocoa.

The phone vibrated. _U havent told me wats up,_ I read.

Damn boy sure was good. _Met a boy,_ I said instead of bearing my soul uncomfortably. I wasn't good at it. I expected people to let me in, hypocritically, but I couldn't do it. With Tobi, I never needed to _let_ him in; he _forced_ his way in with knowing looks and smart deductions. The clock on the phone said 4:30; I'd been texting Tobiah since four. He must be really fighting off sleep to be answering so slowly. His answers were usually instant. That was what I liked about texting him; there was never any need to wait.

_U woke me up at MIDNIGHT_ _2 tell me bout a boy._

I could picture him typing that, angry and sleepy, brown eyes drifting close as he thumbed away. It brought a bittersweet smile to my face. _No, _I texted.

Idle anger must have woken him up a bit. His answer was instant: _O, i see. ill call._ The phone rang a second after I read it and Tobi's groggy voice—always deeper when he was tiered—said the instant I picked it up, "What's up?"

It was good to hear his voice; I hadn't talked to my cousin in so long. "You know that song that we thought had no lyrics?" I asked, my voice just as groggy as his. It would be easier to pretend I was talking about the song and not anything else.

There was a tentative pause. I could hear him dig his head into his pillow and murmur something, then I pictured him frowning. He sounded like he was chewing on his lip when he asked, "Your mom's favorite?"

I pressed my lips together and nodded, then I realized that he couldn't see me. "Yeah," I gulped. I sunk down deeper into the water, chin deep. "That's the one."

Tobi's deep voice was almost like a warm blanket. I wished he were here in Candice City so I could at least have someone familiar and _welcome _with me in the school with the cheesy name. Tobi would be _so _much better than Kentin. "What about it?"

I swallowed. "I found out what it's called," I told him. In the midst of sobs and senseless babbling, I'd managed to ask Aunt Sarah what it was called. "It's called _Tears in Heaven_."

"That sounds..." Tobi swallowed. His voice was warm and sleepy. "Um."

I had to force a the words through a knot. "Would you know my name," I started, and my voice shook as if there was an earthquake inside of me, "if I saw you in heaven?"

Tobi swallowed. "I..." He was at a loss for words. It was ironic how appropriate that song was. "Sealie," he called my nickname. Only he called me that. There was something in his voice and I knew he wanted to be here to comfort me right now. "Oh, Sealie."

I sobbed, just one quick gasp of air. "Yeah."

Silence, uncomfortable and teetering on the edge of depressing, fell over us. I swallowed through the knot in my throat, and pulled the plug on the tub, getting up to dress myself. "You know," Tobiah said as I put the phone on speaker, "Mom and Dad were talking about you." _Great_, gossip. I never thought Helen and George would be feeding them, though. "They were thinking we could come over soon."

Depression had made me suspicious; now I felt bad for it. Helen and George wouldn't do that to me, they were _family_. A dim light at the end of the tunnel. "How soon is soon?" Hope was a tangible thing in the air around me.

Tobi gave a groggy laugh. "Sooner now that I know you've met a boy," he warned. If he were here, I knew he'd be wagging a finger at me like a disapproving mother. "What's he like?" Talking to him was just as good as talking to a girl. "Is he pretty?" he asked, mocking all the conversations he'd heard me have with Lizzy. "Is he dreamy? Is he _delicious_?"

"Cookie-dough ice cream delicious," I answered, playing along, giggling.

"Ooh," Tobiah gasped. "That good? So I'm guessing he has black hair?" He knew me well; black hair was a turn-on for me.

I grabbed my phone and walked across the hall to my room. I threw my closet doors open and turned on the light. "If it weren't red, yes," I admitted. There were a pair of faded jeans with holes in them, fit for fishnets. I loved fishnets.

"Straying from the path of predetermined genetic greatness?" he asked, sounding almost shocked.

I scoffed, fishing in my drawers for fishnets. Talking to him made everything seem almost normal. "The red isn't natural," I informed. "He dyed it."

"A man with a dye job?" Tobi asked, yawning. "And he's straight?"

I pulled out the nets when I found them and tugged them on. "Actually," I disclosed, "I'm not sure." I put on the hole-y skinny-jeans. "But I'm determined to find out."

Tobi laughed. "I thought so. That's my Sealie, my midget." He almost sounded proud. "Go get 'em, midg."

"He plays guitar," I told him, knowing he'd be interested. Tobi played too. We'd learned together. "He has a Gibson USA Joan Jett Blackheart."

Tobiah floundered for a second in silence. "_Gurl_," he said, and I could just picturing splaying his fingers out as if examining his fingernails, "if he's gay, I'd be happy to screw a few bucks out of him. And maybe a guitar."

I laughed. "Who'd be on top?" I asked.

"I don't _care_!" he said, and though sleep was threading through his voice, I could hear the chuckle beneath the words. "If it got me a guitar, he could be on top. He could ride me like a goddamn bull if it got me that Blackheart."

"I'll let you know," I told him. "Maybe you can screw two Blackhearts out of him." I laughed. I tugged on a dark purple off-the-shoulder t-shirt; it matched nicely with the black fishnets visible underneath the pale faded denim.

"If he's straight—_if_—it'll be up to you to score us new guitars," he warned. He yawned. "But because it's a far fetch that he is, what's his name? I need to know who's gonna be sticking things up my butt."

I laughed. "Castiel," I answered. "His name is Castiel. Start practicing how to open that hole wide, Tobi. But you should have a nice full night's rest before that. Night."

Tobiah yawned again. "I'm missing two hours of sleep already; it won't be a full night's rest. I'll call you when I get out of school," he promised.

"Sounds good. Sleep." The phone beeped when I hung up; I tucked it into my back pocket and smiled, feeling normal. Or as normal as I could get in Candice City with my parents dead. I wondered if I should be feeling the grief all the time as a dull ache in the back of my head or as I do, in deep, knife-sharp anguish. Was one healthier than the other? Probably.

I grabbed my old book-bag from my closet and flicked the lights off, walking downstairs in darkness. Aunt Sarah usually slept in late; she was a party-planner, she worked on her own hours. Usually nine to five, but sometimes not at all, or longer. When I went downstairs, the kitchen light was on. My brow furrowed. "Sarah?" I called.

"Alise?" she called back. "What are you doing up so early?"

I dropped my bag onto the sofa and turned on the radio, lowly, to a station I knew always played Panic! At the Disco. _Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off_ was almost ending. "I could ask you the same thing," I said. I was usually an early riser, on school-days anyway. Aunt Sarah wasn't. "I woke up early. You?"

_Swing, Swing_ by The All-American Rejects came on. "I took a wedding on," Auntie said, sounding regretful. I walked in to the kitchen to see her shaking her head and pinching her nose. She had wedding invitations all around her. "Brides are handfuls. _Maroon_, she says, not red, _maroon_. Ugh. This is why I do kids' parties. They don't care if it's _maroon_ or burgundy or red. They just care that it's _there_. Plus they're fun." She made a frustrated sound, somewhere between scoff and growl. "Brides are _not_ fun. Remind me to never, _ever_ do a wedding again, Alise. _Ever._"

"Why didn't she just go to a wedding planner?" I couldn't help but asking.

"Because she's _stupid _and I thought I was up for the challenge," Auntie spit. "I'm just as _stupid_."

I laughed. "You know you don't like weddings."

"Yeah, well," she snapped, more at herself than at anyone. She grabbed a spray bottle and squirted a bit of it onto a card, close enough that the smell would catch but the liquid wouldn't go through.

"When's the wedding?" I asked, grabbing a card. It was between an Austintine Chase and a Travis Chase. It was a vow renewal. The date was soon: April seventh. "The seventh's a Monday. She can't expect anyone to come."

Aunt Sarah crossed her arms, leaning back to the chair. "Yeah, I told her that. But she insisted. _Seven's a lucky number_ and blah, blah, blah."

"Tell her to try another seventh," I suggested. "There's gotta be an open seventh weekend."

Auntie squirted another card. It got the liquid on it and she growled, tossing it into a discarded pile. "Tried that too."

"And...?"

"Said she can't do it," Auntie went on. "She and her husband will only be in town together this one month."

My brows knitted together. "Um. What?" I wondered as I went to get Eggos from the fridge for us both.

Aunt Sarah did another card, satisfied when it didn't get wet. "Apparently she's some hotshot hostess in some hotshot restaurant across state and her husband—Travis?—is a pilot."

"One hell of a family life," I grumbled, putting the chocolate chip waffles in the double toaster. I poured Sarah some OJ and myself Welch's grape juice. Normally, Aunt Sarah would have done the responsible guardian thing and told me to watch my language. Now, annoyed and stressed, she didn't give a damn. "You going to the wedding?"

"I'm the planner. Do I have a choice?"

I shrugged. "Guess not."

"Neither do you."

The Eggos popped and the radio changed to 3 Doors Down's _Kryptonite_. For a moment I just stared. Then: "_What_?" Parties were _not _my thing. Strangers' parties even less.

"You heard me," Sarah said, although she sounded as if she were pleading. She really didn't want to go alone to these things anymore, did she? "Please? They've got a boy around your age and I'm sure they'll be others."

I groaned, placing the waffles onto our plates. "You know I don't like people," I complained. "People aren't fun. People are mean."

"Come on, Alise, _please_, just this once, for me?" Auntie begged. Her red eyes shimmered, reminding me just how much she and Mom looked alike; they had the same eye shapes. "Just so I know you're adjusting?"

I knew in the end I would say yes. "I didn't even go to parties back home," I insisted. Aunt Sarah pouted, lowering her head, the stray reddish-pink strands of her bangs falling forward. "Ugh. Fine. But when Tobiah and his parents visit, Tobi gets to sleep over."

My aunt knitted her brows together. "Tobiah Ericson? The boy with the brown hair—which he really needs to get cut—who wouldn't let you go?" she wondered. When I was at the airport, the Ericsons came to bid me farewell. Helen and George had each kissed my forehead and told me to keep and touch and keep safe; Tobi, on the other hand, had squashed me like a bug to his chest and begged me not to go, not loosening his grip until I was absolutely purple. "I don't know..."

Where was my childish aunt when she was useful?

"Why not?" I wondered. I handed her her plate and bit into my chocolate waffle. "It's just Tobi. He's practically family. I used to sleep over at his house. You can ask Aunt Helen and Uncle George if you want to."

"I'll think about it," she promised. I smiled.

**:: ::**

Homeroom was relatively uneventful. It was mixed with all different grades, which was new for me because in my old school, our homerooms were arranged by grade. Here it just seemed random. I was happy to see Ken wasn't in my homeroom; Nathaniel was, though, and I had settled down by him, clutching my books to myself protectively in this new environment. He introduced me to Leigh, who dressed in Victorian-era clothing. I'd seen him at the clothes store Aunt Sarah had shown me. He was refreshingly different. It shocked me that he was eighteen. Apparently, he was only in the school because he'd failed two or three classes and had decided to make up for them to get his diploma and make it into a fashion school.

The class president had then introduced me to his sister, Amber. I smirked when I saw her eyes widen when she saw me sitting next to her brother. She didn't say anything, just huffed and turned her back, going back to her little posse—I knew she had one!—of three, with a little Chinese girl and a brunette.

That was about it for then.

My first period class was Honors English. It was easy enough, I guess. Mary Shelly's Frankenstein was on the reading list, which was pretty cool since I had the third-edition copy with Steampunk illustrators by Zdenko Basic and Manuel Sumberac that made the whole thing worth reading in my backpack. I had Poe in my bag too, and Edgar Allan Poe was worth reading without all the Steampunk in and of itself. When I pulled out both mint-condition books, my teacher—a Mr. O'Neil—freaked out more than I had. And I'd had a spaz attack when I saw them in Amazon, and almost a heart attack when I saw them both in the mail. He asked to borrow them. I flat-out said no. Didn't even try to cushion the blow. I didn't tell him that these were the last things my parents had gotten me before they gave up the ghost. I didn't want him knowing that. So if he saw me as rude, so be it. That didn't change the fact that I was going to be as greedy as possible with these two books.

Most English classes were two periods, but Honors was only one. I had second period free to do as I wished, even though I'd chosen "Independent Study" to fill this one period. I walked out into the courtyard, surprised at the disappointment that swelled inside me when I didn't see Castiel. But I ignored it and dug a candy bar out of my bookbag because _hot damn_ I needed one right now. Sweets were good for me.

There was something different about the courtyard when you were actually a student. Something about the huge sign that said _Saccharine Amadoris High_. The school was named after the person who founded it, but I had a hard time believing that someone would name their child a synonym for sweet, especially when their last name sounded so close to the Spanish word for _love_. Poor guy, named Sweet Love. No wonder the kids shortened it to Sweet Amoris High. I couldn't even imagine the ridicule.

I shook my head at the sign, then pulled my iPhone from my pocket. It was a while before I noticed that the breeze brought the sudden warmth of a body. I turned to see redheaded Castiel, sitting across the courtyard, looking at me. My brows furrowed in an attempt to figure it out, but I shrugged and offered him a smile. "Skipping?" I asked, raising my voice a bit for him to hear me.

"Not exactly," he answered. He looked so calm and collected, as if skipping was an every day occurrence for him. It probably was, seeing how often he was in the courtyard. I turned my eyes back to the phone, hyperaware of his towering presence just on the other side of the courtyard. "But you are."

I turned my attention to him again, more than happy to look at him. "Nope," I said, popping the _p_. "Independent Study."

"Yeah," Castiel said. I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "Texting is _definitely_ independent study."

I smiled. "I'm not texting," I told him, and it was the truth. "I'm researching." I tapped the screen with my nail, a quick _taptap_, to get the point across. "Very independent study-ish."

"Researching _what_?" he snorted, seeming unconvinced.

I shrugged. "Blink-182, Foo Fighters... You know, _music_." I looked back up at the SAH sign. "I also might right a report—_independently_—about the _idiots_ who would name their child _Saccharine_ in the first place."

Castiel laughed. "I've wondered that myself."

"Anyone who's ever seen this sign has," I assessed. I locked my phone and unlocked it, having fun hearing the _click _of it "locking." "It needs to be researched. Anyone who calls themselves a _Saccharinizes_ needs to know why." I shivered at the horribleness of it all. "They also have to stop calling themselves Saccharinizes, but that's an entirely different line of investigation."

"You might just be onto something."

I grinned, tucking my iPhone into my pocket. I looked at him, his tousled red hair and gray-brown eyes, the sharp lines of his face and the smooth curve of his lips. For a second, I wanted to tell him about _Tears in Heaven_, but I couldn't bring myself to. Instead I let a comfortable silence settle around us. For a long while, it was just Castiel and I, and the silence of the breeze. Then I broke the silence. "I mentioned you to a friend," I told him, because I wanted to hear the smooth baritone richness of his voice again.

He rose a perfect red brow; the dye was fading and the black of his natural color was peeking through in strands. "So you're gossiping? Didn't think you'd manage that quite that fast."

I shook my head. "No, nothing like that," I assured, not even insulted that he'd jumped to that conclusion. "My cousin Tobi and I—we were talking guitars. I mentioned that I knew a guy with a Blackheart."

Castiel rose another brow. "You spend your free time talking about guitars?"

I smiled ruefully at him. "It's the safest thing _for_ me to talk about right now," I admitted. I was glad when he nodded, didn't pry, didn't ask, content with not knowing. "He asked me if you were straight." Even from a distance, I could see the slight twinge of annoyance in the depths of his eyes. It made me smile. "I told him I didn't know." I could see the insult about to dart from his tongue, but I just smirked at him. "He told me to find out and literally _screw_ you out of it." I laughed. "Then he said that if you _were_ gay, that he would do it. And he's straight."

I saw the little bit of irritation slip away to amusement. Castiel scoffed a bit, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not gonna lie, Castiel, it sure was an interesting image," I admitted. His cheeks flared red. "And kind of funny. I mean, _you_—drilling Tobi?" I laughed. "Tobi would be the seme in _that_ relationship."

Castiel's face was brighter than a Christmas tree; it was a sight I was sure I wouldn't be able to see again. But he took the poking and teasing like a man and rolled his eyes, getting up from his side of the courtyard to stand over me, dwarfing me, reminding me of _exactly_ how tall and strong he was. "What makes you think _that_?"

I smiled. "Well," I drawled, pulling my phone back out and unlocking it. "This, for example." I turned the phone to show Castiel a picture of Tobiah. He was standing next to extended measuring tape in the kitchen that _used_ to be mine, with me holding it still above him, having to stand on a step-latter just to reach above him. Where Castiel could be six feet, maybe a bit less, Tobi was obviously 6'6", with broad enough shoulders to play football without needing the padding, and the muscles to back it up. I had to fight the girls off him with a stick back home. I mean _literally_, I had a bat around for just the occasion when girls got too handsy and Tobi sent me the _Sealie, help me_ look.

Castiel crossed his arms. "Okay," he admitted reluctantly. "I admit that would be pretty funny."

I smiled like a pervert at him, giving him a slow wink. "I'm not saying I didn't _enjoy_ the thought."

Castiel flushed red again, but sat down next to me on my bench. "Speaking of enjoyably funny images," he sighed. "I hear you had a bump-in with Amber yesterday."

I shrugged. I didn't see the big deal with that. I stood down _those_ girls plenty of times. It was girls like me that I'd needed that bat for. "Yup. How'd you hear?"

"From the Queen Bitch herself."

A snort escaped me. "And did she turn her spin on things?" I didn't know the girl, but I knew how her type thought. I knew she'd try to make me the villain.

"As queen bitches tend to do."

I sighed, crossing my arms. Seemed I would have to pry it from him. "_And_...?"

Castiel smirked; I knew it was revenge for making him the uke. "Said you rammed into her, insulted her with words 'too grotesque for a lady such as herself' to repeat, then stormed off without so much as an apology."

"I hope you know that's a lie."

Castiel shrugged, but more like he was siding with me than against me.

"You want to know the truth?"

"Never hurts."

"It's true that I _did_ bump into her. I wasn't watching where I was going and that's my fault," I consented. "I was _going _to apologize, but she insulted me. I still _did_ apologize though." A look of disgust threaded through his face, but I rolled my eyes and smirked, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. "I told her I hadn't seen the five foot seven of bitch in my way and that I was sorry that I got any of my 'emo-dweeb' on her."

That made Castiel smirk. He patted my head like he would a dog, and I growled at him. "Down, girl," he teased, making me grin.

I noticed there was something familiar in his jacket pocket. Rectangular, green and white. I was fast, and I took it from him before he could even register my movement—three years of karate classes did that to a girl. "Newport?" I asked, examining the box. "You brought _cigarettes_ to a _school_? More importantly, you _smoke_?" Castile tried to take them from me. I was too fast. "Answer and maybe—_maybe_—I'll give them back."

"Yes and yes," he said reluctantly, unused to following orders. I could tell he hated it.

I stood up and dropped them to the floor. My foot squashed it to nothing but dust and plastic.

"What the hell?"

I shrugged, twisting my foot, clad in strappy black sandals, over the box. "Smoking's bad for you," I said simply.

"That doesn't mean you can tell me what to _do_!" he shouted. He took a step closer to eyes were blazing with a fire from within. He towered over me, reminding me just how small I was, and the straight line of his angry lips looked terrifying. He was trying to intimidate me—unknowingly, but still.

Intimidation didn't ever get very far with me. "I'm not telling you what to do," I announced, twisting my foot again. "You can go ahead and buy another pack. Fine by me." I stood on my tiptoes, crossing my arms, looking incredibly smug. "But you can't tell _me_ what to do, so when I see them, I'll make them mincemeat." I smiled smugly. "I'll get you nicotine patches. Promise."

I sat back on the bench as if nothing had happened, smiling a sugary sweet smile at him. He stormed away, and I felt the butterflies die in my stomach. I wondered if he'd talk to me again, and if it was worth it.

**:: ::**

**I forgot to mention that Alise (Ah-leese) is based off my character in the game, which you can see here: ** www . mycandylove profil / Therapist **You can ALL****be my friends if you review!**

**As you can see, this one is longer than the last because I felt bad about making you wait.**

**R&R!**


	5. Chapter 5

**:: ::**

Third period was sure was _something_. The class was filled mostly with boys, which was something new for me because it was a _computer_ class. In my old school, we'd had equal parts of boys and girls. Apparently not here. Computer class was a "nerdy" class. Tch. Lizzy would have a fit if she heard that; she couldn't figure out how a class that taught you how to use Photoshop and how to hypothetically hack into government-protected files was "nerdy" or "dull." I was with her there. But apparently in this school, girls didn't see the potential in that.

Or maybe they had just been trying to avoid Kentin. I couldn't fault them there.

Kentin, of course, wasn't the only guy there; Nathaniel and Leigh were there and although I didn't know either of them very well, I took a seat beside them and ducked my head out of Ken's view; the guys were tall enough that I didn't have to do much maneuvering. That didn't mean they didn't _notice_. Leigh shook his head, amused, and Nathaniel's brows knit. "What's up?"

I dragged an animation to the corner of the webpage and edited the gaudy magenta color to a demure, light blue. The job was to edit the page and make it easier on the eyes. The thing was horrible in its gaudiness. "Oh, nothing," I murmured, sliding down farther into my chair. I wondered if Castiel was still mad at me.

Leigh rolled his eyes, but he smiled softly at me, shaking his head. "Aren't you the school president?" he asked Nathaniel sarcastically. "Shouldn't you know?"

"I only know if it has something to do with the school," the blonde said, crossing his arms for a second before changing the background on his page to something less horrifying.

I jumped. "Holy _hell_," I cursed, digging into my back pocket. I winced. Kentin had noticed me. _Crap. _He was walking over. I grimaced, pulling out my phone. It was Tobi. Then it vibrated again with a message from Lizzy. The phone read nine thirty, so I figured it was around six, maybe seven back home. Lizzy and Tobi were probably waiting for the bus right now.

Lizzy's read: _y didnt u TELL me?_

Tobi's said: _Liz is mad_

Nathaniel tsked. "No phones in school," he chastened, looking at me teasingly.

"Shut your face, Mr. President," I huffed. I gave the room a once over and pushed the phone underneath the computer desk. "He doesn't know I'm in school right now."

_Can't text too much, _I answered in a double text. _Class prez sitting next to me._

Leigh managed to read over both our shoulders. He shook his head again; it didn't seem that he talked too much. Or maybe he did and just didn't know me. I wouldn't blame him. But he and Nathaniel still scooted a bit closer when Ken came, both having seen me shrink down in my seat. I wasn't scared of Kentin, exactly, it was just that a person who moved into a different state just to be _around_ you was uncomfortable for anyone. At home, I didn't really mind him; I'd known him all my life. I just didn't think he'd follow me when I moved. Now that he had...well.

I appreciated that Nathaniel and Leigh noticed my discomfort. I wondered if Castiel would have, too.

"Alise! Alise!" Ken called when he finally made it to the conjoined computer desk that I was sitting at. "I knew you'd take this class!" He smiled widely, that _knight-in-rusted-armor_ smile. I bit my lip, easing more into my chair, pretending to busy myself with the task at hand. The page was supposed to be for the school. "I didn't see you after school," he complained. "I thought you would stay to see me. I would have."

Guilt-tripping me. It usually didn't work—I usually told them exactly where to shove their guilt—but with Ken, it was different. He was ridiculed by everyone because of how he was different and weird and I knew that feeling; I didn't want to be one of those people who ridiculed him. Guilt-trips worked with him. "I was...busy," I murmured, inserting the SAH crest into a corner, replacing the idiotic animation.

Ken frowned. "Yeah," he said sadly. "I saw you with Castiel at the store."

Nathaniel rose a brow. My phone buzzed. I pressed my lips together again. "I needed something," I said, although I didn't see why I should explain myself. I unlocked my phone and stole a glance at the screen. Tobi and Lizzy both answered at the same time.

_Im the prez,_ Lizzy complained, while Tobi said, _Boy or girl?_

"You could have gone to Mr. Harris's," Kentin pointed out. His voice was accusing, and that prickled something inside me.

I glared. "I could do a lot of things," I deadpanned. I didn't have to look at the screen to type my answer. _So is he. Yeah, he. Ken's bugging me._

The answer was instant. So was Ken's. "You could," he pouted, and I knew he hadn't gotten the small threat underneath my tone. "Like we could go somewhere, right?"

_Kentin he follwd u?_ was Tobi. _I can thnk of a thing or 2 2 say to him._ I wished he were here, so he could deal with Ken and not me. I wasn't up to him; I really wasn't. Liz said, _That creep_. "No," I said, "we really couldn't." I turned my attention to the computer screen, desperately hoping to end this conversation.

"But you can with Castiel, right?" Ken accused.

I bristled. "First," I started, "I _ran into_ Castiel. Second, I was halfway across _town_, how did you _see _that? Third, Castiel didn't follow me _across the country_." How the hell _had_ he seen that? I didn't like that. It brought goosebumps on my skin. I tried not to sound too mean, I really did, but I heard the words slice like knives. I heard Ken gasp, saw him pout. Through the glare of his glasses, I saw his eyes widen. It broke my heart a bit, because he wasn't a bad guy, he was just weird. His weird made me uncomfortable.

I tapped my answer to Lizzy and Tobiah: _I'll tell you later. Call me when you get out of school, both of you._

Ken's voice sounded watery. "I just thought you'd like the company..." he muttered, and walked away, head slumped over.

I frowned. "That went well," I muttered, feeling a bit bad for having to do that. Rude wasn't my thing unless they were rude first. Or, I always tried to make that a rule.

It was a shock to hear Leigh's voice, smooth like velvet. "How long have you known him?" he wondered, his voice low.

I tweaked the color of clicked links and unclicked links to match the school's colors. "A long while," I told him. "He was at my old school."

"A school four hours behind the clock?" Nathaniel asked, raising an eyebrow over his golden brown eyes. When Leigh and I looked at him with stoney eyes, he blushed. "I'm the student body president; I did my homework."

I shook my head at him. "_This _school is four hours fast," I said, defending the place where my whole life had been. "And yeah. From there."

"He followed you here?" Nathaniel wondered, and I could see something protective in his eyes, reminding me of Tobi for a second. Tobi had dark green eyes, but the sentiment was there, which puzzled me. It didn't look as if Nathaniel was the naturally protective type. Someone like Castiel was more fit for it. I made a face, uncomfortable, and changed the brassy font. "That can't be healthy."

Leigh's velvety voice said, "Stalkers never are." His honey-toned fingers fixed the Victorian sleeve that had rumpled. It was distinctly obvious that he was metrosexual. That difference was another refreshing thing about him. He was turning out to be a cool guy to hang around; I was glad Nathaniel had introduced him to me. Leigh sighed, a soft sound, and gave me a once-over. It didn't make me uncomfortable like Castiel's did, didn't set butterflies in my stomach; he just looked at me like he was examining me. "Although, with your sense of style, I could see why you would gain a stalker or two."

A side of my mouth tilted up. "Thanks. You don't dress so bad yourself."

"I own a clothes store," he reminded me. "Of course I don't."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. He turned his attention to his screen, still horribly flashy.

I edited the way things were set up, bringing more attention to the important things like headlines about the SAH prom and stuff. "Where'd you get all your Victorian clothes?" I wondered.

Leigh grinned at the question. I wondered if this was a question he got often. "I make them. Why?"

"I sorta wanted a corset," I admitted.

Leigh clicked a few things on his computer which I couldn't see. "They ruin your womb," he informed me.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sixteen, I don't _need_ a womb."

"How about later in life?" Leigh asked, amused.

I shrugged. "There are plenty homeless children in the world; I'm sure they wouldn't mind being adopted. Some people worried about my adversity to pregnancy. They didn't know as much about it as I did. Hyperemesis gravidarum, metal mouth, clown feet, messed up abdominal muscles, gingivitis, creepy skin changes, swollen crotches, and hairy _everything_ all sounded _swell_, but I'm sure I could do without it.

Leigh laughed. He reached over Nathaniel's lap for my phone and I handed it to him, watching as he tapped something into it. "Come over to the store and I'll have you fitted. Call first so I have the tools ready," he said, handing the white iPhone back.

I grinned my thanks. "How much?" I think I had a bit saved up; I'd been wanting a corset to match my black and red tutu since I got the thing.

"Depends on the fabric and materials, and how much of it is used," Leigh said, clicking away. I took one last glance at my webpage and saved it, sending it to the teacher's computer. She'd said something about the best one becoming the school's official one. "Probably not much."

I rose a brow. "Should I be insulted?"

Leigh and Nathaniel laughed, although Nathaniel had stayed out of the conversation. "When he insults you, you'll know," the student body president said with a chuckled.

"I'll take your word for it."

**:: ::**

Fourth period was Advanced Algebra 2. It was two periods long, so it took up all of fourth and all of fifth. It was mind-numbing work. They were a bit ahead of my school; keeping up was difficult at first, but I caught on with help from a _natural_ redhead named Iris. She was a cool girl, her hair in a loose braid and she had mint-green eyes. She seemed to know everything about the class, which was more than a relief. She wore an easy smile and layers: a purple tee atop a green long-sleeved shirt, furred shorts with long purple and black tights, and matching black combat boots. She wore a ribbon around her neck as a choker.

Iris was kindhearted, and it showed in her eyes when she'd asked me my name. She pronounced it "Alice," and I smiled when I corrected her. She'd pursed her lips and said it again, slowly, smiling when she got it right. Then she cracked open a textbook and waited for the teacher, Mrs. Geraldine, to start. Then she'd helped me with my work and asked me if I wanted to sit with her during lunch. I'd said yes and when class was over, she packed her stuff and waited for me with her easy smile.

I heaved my bag over my shoulder. "Where's the cafeteria?" I wondered idly. I hadn't bothered to take a tour of the school, which I regretted now, because I'd been eyeballing the directions.

Iris smiled, hefting the huge beach bag she used as a backpack. She was _always_ smiling; I'd known her for all of eighty minutes and I learned that _instantly_. She put the huge red Algebra textbook into the bag and grabbed me by my elbow, leading the way. "Just this way," she said, turning a corner and heading down squared stairs. She led me to a side of the school I'd never seen, but apparently would spend the second half of my schedule in. This was the E-wing, apparent in the little black plaques atop the door-frames. Iris led me into a huge double-doored room with circular tables everywhere, decorated each with a pale blue cloth tablecloth and a ceiling light.

My brows rose in surprise. At my old school, we'd had circular tables with plastic chairs; here, the furniture was woodwork. It made me shift my weight in discomfort. But when I saw the food the kids sitting at the tables were already eating, I felt more in my element; it was regular old school-food slop: Chicken patties, rubbery macaroni and cheese, and gooey Sloppy Joe.

Iris smiled. "Macaroni!" she said enthusiastically. She led me to the line, considerably short, seeing as all the kids were already eating. She got her food and punched in a number, then waited for me to do the same. I grabbed a white plate with a decent-looking chicken patty and plucked in my old ID pin, wondering if that would work. It did, and for that I was relieved. Iris smiled again, grabbing my elbow. She safeguarded me to a table with four other girls. "Hey, ladies," she said cheerfully. "This is Alise. Ah-leese, not Alice."

I smiled, looking at the girls as Iris pointed them out.

One was darkskinned with short black hair, getting longer as it reached the front of her face, with a black hat on top. She wore a teal t-shirt with thick straps, which was probably why she didn't get caught by the dress code. A pair of black shorts covered her legs. A long bracelet made of—well, I didn't know what it was made of, just that it was skintight—rested on her left forearm. A pale orange scarf adorned her neck. She wore mismatched stockings and short black boots. Iris called her Kim. Kim had pale blue eyes.

Another girl with long dark brown hair sat next to Kim. She had wide blue eyes the color of an ocean. Her shirt, a pale sky blue, was ruffled around the hems, tight on her torso. She held a book in front of her, absentmindedly skinning a chicken patty and stuffing it into her mouth. She wore a white skirt with slit sides. A pale purple ribbon was tied around her neck like a shoelace. Her dark hair was adorned with two blue barrettes. She only looked up from her book when Iris called her name—Melody—and she gave me a single wave, like the one I usually gave, along with a smile, then looked back down.

A third girl had purple hair, cut just at her ears. It was wavy. She didn't have anything in it. Her eyes were shaped thinly and were a hard brown, they were the kind of eyes that with just one look could get any information she needed. She wore a green hoodie dress, made out of sweatsuit material. It was zip-up, and she had a white nametag with the words _Editor-in-Chief: Peggy_. She wore green All-Stars and had set next to her an old portable microphone. She smiled up at me and asked, "How's your first day been?"

"Good so far," I answered awkwardly.

Peggy smiled again and let Iris go on with the introductions.

The fourth girl had purple hair like Peggy's, and I wondered if they were related. Her hair was cut just above her shoulders. Her eyes were just as purple as her hair. Her cheeks were dusted with a faint pink sheen. She wore a short-sleeved gray v-neck sweater, trimmed in purple lace, with a t-shirt underneath. She had a matching skirt. Her palms were clad in fingerless gray gloves. She was sketching, and she didn't have a tray. Iris called her Violette. She looked up at me with shy violet eyes and dropped her gaze back to the sketch book.

Iris sat down and motioned for me to do the same, then dug into her cheesy slop.

I pulled my patty from its bun and ripped it into nuggets, scanning the room. It was easy to tell who was who when they were all sitting in their respective cliques. I'd said that to plenty of new kids on their way into my old school—Lizzy included. Putting that advice to practice was a different thing than giving it out. I saw Nathaniel, sitting with to a group of kids, seemingly pondering over the school's financial records—which were still _shit_. Leigh sat with the group, looking out of his element and mismatched. I felt bad for him; I was sure he wanted to go back to his store, but wanted more to get that degree. I don't know why he didn't go to an adult school, despite that he was still young enough to attend high school.

Across the student body council, Amber's group sat with an annoyed-looking Castiel and a silver-haired boy with heterochromia who dressed in Victorian-era clothing just like Leigh. If I looked closely enough, I could almost nitpick a resemblance, but I was sure it was just a trick of the fluorescent lighting. Amber was fawning over Castiel. I gritted my teeth together, chewing my food more thoroughly than I needed to. I knew I shouldn't; I had no right to be jealous, especially when I was angry with him and had only met him _two days ago_.

But I bristled and turned away to scan the rest of the room.

Next to the Castiel-heterochromia-Amber group, the obvious jocks sat, all wide shoulders and loud voices. They weren't wearing their uniforms, but they might as well have been. I could easily picture the ones with the broad shoulders playing football. There were tall ones, basketball players I pictured. I thought of Tobi playing with Dad, bouncing around the orange ball in shorts _way_ too baggy for either of them. It made me giggle, but it was cut off when I thought of my _dad_.

Dad—tall, lean Dad with purple eyes to match mine. Dad playing ball with Tobi and George, laughing when I gagged and complained about all the testosterone in the driveway. Dad teaching me a new song. Dad singing to me on my birthday. Dad teaching me how to drive a jet-ski. Dad doing the bills. Dad going to the store to get me hot chocolate from Wawa because Mom wasn't home and he had _no idea_ where the cocoa was. Dad holding me when I cried. Dad being _Dad_.

My throat tightened. I felt the back of my eyes prickle with tears. I wanted my daddy. _Right now_. To hold me and hug me and tell me everything was going to be okay, because that's the type of thing dads did, the type of thing _my_ dad did. I swallowed. "I—I'm going to the bathroom," I stuttered. Never mind that I didn't know where the bathroom was; I just wanted to be alone. The chair made a _screek_ that hurt my ears, but I didn't care. I stormed out. I could feel myself shaking, quaking, shivering. Falling apart.

I stormed into the nearest empty class room, curling into a corner. The first time I'd felt myself falling apart, _ripping_ with grief, it'd been at the lunch table with Tobi. Lizzy had been absent that day. I hadn't even said bye or where I was going; Tobi had followed me, like the good cousin he was. I sobbed like the little girl I was, but I hadn't cried. Just like yesterday night.

Now I was alone, without Tobi or even Sarah. I felt the sharp edges of my nails digging into my collarbone as I hugged myself. I sobbed, loud, uncontrollable, dry sobs; I was shaking as if there was an earthquake inside me. I half-expected Dad to come in and say it was all a cruel joke. When the door opened, I wanted to look up to see Dad. But it wasn't Dad standing in the doorway; it was Nathaniel, followed by Castiel.

I hid my face and tried calming my sobs. It didn't help, just left me more out of air.

Someone grabbed hold of me. Alarm and panic took over and I curled in farther into my corner. I knew it was Nathaniel holding me; his fingers were soft and unhardened. I wanted them to go away, both of them. I didn't even know why they were here. But I couldn't tell them to get lost, because I couldn't breath and I was gasping for air and sobbing at the same time. I was shaking too hard to do much of anything, even move away, though I did try.

I wanted my daddy.

That was the single most childish thing I could have ever thought, but it was true. I wanted my daddy and my mommy.

"Alise," Nathaniel called my name. My mind was spinning from lack of air. He smoothed back my hair, which had fallen to my face, disheveled with my shaking. "What's wrong, Alise?"

I was quivering too hard to notice when my phone vibrated, or when Castiel leaned down to pick it up; it had fallen when I ran inside.

Oh gods. I felt sick. I wanted my daddy. Why wasn't he here? Why wasn't Mom here? Why the _hell_ had they gone out that day? I couldn't even remember. Why hadn't I gone with them? Why hadn't it been _me_? I wanted my parents, so, _so_ bad. But I'd never see them again. I'd never see my Mom in the morning with her messy bedhead and hellion breath. I'd never see Dad at night in his duckling pajama pants with crust in his eyes. I'd never climb into their bed again to watch TV on a late night Friday.

Distantly, I heard Castiel say something, but I couldn't figure out if it was to me, Nathaniel, or into my phone. I sobbed. Castiel knelt down next to me, tugging me slightly from Nathaniel's hold into his own and shoving the cold plastic of my phone to my ear. "Sealie, Sealie," the voice on the phone said. My answer was a sob. Castiel tucked a strand of hair behind my free ear and Nathaniel rubbed my shoulders. "Sealie, it'll be alright, okay? It will. You know it will."

Where I got the air to answer, let alone the brain-power, I'd never know. "No, I _don't_," I cried. My voice cracked on the last word. "I _don't _know, and it _won't_." I registered, absentmindedly, Nathaniel's soft fingers drifting over my forehead.

"Okay," Tobi said. I could hear the pain in his voice. I wanted him _here_, just like I wanted Mom and Dad back. "You don't know. I _do_, Sealie, okay. Everything _will_ be okay. Just calm down."

I sobbed, loud and uncontrolled. Dry tears pricked like acupuncture needles at the back of my eyes. "How can _anything_ be _okay_?" I shouted, and I suddenly didn't care if anyone heard me. I just wanted to be reassured; I wanted someone to reason with me, even with my shouting my anger out. "My parents are _dead_, Tobi, _dead_. How can _anything, _ever, be _okay_?"

I felt Nathaniel shake next to me. Castiel's hands felt sturdy on my forehead; he smoothed my hair under his callused fingers. He moved closer, and I shrank. My dad used to do that, move closer when I was upset.

Tobi hesitated. "I—" Tobi paused. "Sealie, I don't know how," he admitted, "but they will. They always do." It struck me that he shouldn't be dealing with me; I should be dealing with myself. He's at school, probably in a bathroom, trying to calm me the hell down. This was a parent's job, not his. He should be in first period or something.

I didn't bother to ask when "always" was. I just grabbed the phone in an iron tight grip and sobbed, gasped, fell apart.

"You should have stayed home, Sealie," Tobi sighed. I heard him swallow as I shivered. Castiel took off his jacket and placed it on my shoulders, but it was cold on my skin. "Mom and Dad would have taken good care of you, you could have stayed here. I'd have slept on the sofa, I wouldn't mind."

He was talking to himself now; worry did that to him, whether it was worry about me or his parents or anyone else.

My sobs were getting less nerve racking. I could almost control them now. I could _breathe_. So I did just that—_breathed_, because I was missing oxygen so much. My sobs were lower now.

"Sealie," Tobi called, and I could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'm going to try to visit soon, okay? I can skip the last week of school, Mom and Dad don't care. Just... Try to keep calm, okay, Sealie? For my sanity and Lizzy's?"

I licked my lips; they'd gone dry. Castiel's jacket got warmer around my shoulders; the softness of Nathaniel's fingers as he tried rubbing warmth into me; the feeling of Castiel's rough hands smoothing my hair over, awkwardly trying to calm me. "Lizzy's?" They didn't have the same schedules.

"Castiel told me you were freaking and I went to Lizzy's Honors class and told them the office needed the student body president," Tobi admitted. "Liz scared the shit and piss out of all the guys in the bathroom and chased them out with her... Would _Liz-ness_ be the right word?"

I snorted, snuggling deeper into the jacket. "That's what I've always called it." I swallowed, feeling my lip quiver. "Go to class."

"You too," he said, and the phone beeped.

The real word crashed down me, along with the attentions of both Castiel and Nathaniel. It was Castiel to crash down on me. "Does this happen often?" he demanded. His gray-brown eyes were boring into mine, baring my soul like he'd been able to do since I met him.

I bit my lip. "Only recently," I answered. I was still shaking. I lowered my gaze, trying not to see the pity that would be in both their eyes. I hated pity; I didn't want it from either of them, especially since I was mad at one of them and he was mad with me. I felt like yawning, but I got up and fixed the black ringlets of my hair to a controlled state. My teeth chattered.

"How recently is recently?" It was Nathaniel's turn to ask.

"Since my parents died, okay?" I snapped at him. I crossed my arms, glaring at him. The warmth of the leather jacket was comforting, and I grabbed onto the two halves of the zipper, holding the jacket together but making it obvious that if Castiel wanted it back, he could have it. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Nathaniel frowned. "I'm sorry."

"So is everyone else," I barked. Nathaniel was still on the floor, looking up at me with pitying wide eyes. I was shaking again, with cold and anger. I was so cold. I should have brought my own jacket. I was glad I was at least wearing tights. I walked out the room, quivering.

Castiel stopped me, a large warm hand on my wrist. "Hey," he said in his deep, warm voice. It made me want to cry. My eyes hurt with tears that refused to be shed. I stopped, crossing my arms underneath his jacket. I was going to yell at him—for something, _anything_—but there was no pity in his endless gray eyes. There was another emotion, unreadable. Butterflies crowded my stomach but I ignored them. Something in the sharp lines of his face looked soft. "Are you okay?"

I swallowed. "As fine as I'll ever be."

Castiel's gray-brown eyes searched me, making the butterflies turn into stinging bees. "Do you want to go home?"

"Yes," I admitted.

Castiel looked at me again, searching for my eyes but not finding them because I wouldn't meet his eyes. "_Will_ you go home?" he asked me.

"No."

I could hear him let out a ghost of a breath, the reminder of a chuckle. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

Castiel reached out to zip up the jacket around me, closing the warmth around me. "There are ten minutes left in lunch," he said, "and we could get your stuff later. Would you like to talk about other things?"

I almost smiled. "You don't."

"No, I don't," the redhead told me. The way he said it made me think that he really didn't care what he wanted at the moment. "But you do."

The jacket was big around me; I didn't have to do much maneuvering to put my arms through the sleeves. It was huge around me; I had to roll the sleeves up in order to see my hands. The warmth made me feel good, although my teeth were still chattering a bit. "Okay," I murmured. Castiel put his hand on the small of my back and led me around the E-wing of the school. "How'd you know to call Tobi?"

"I didn't," he answered. "He texted. When you didn't answer, he called." I could feel the warmth of his large hand through his thick leather jacket. It was a comfort. "I answered and told him you were busy; I'm guessing he heard you sobbing." My face burned red. "Then he told me to hand the phone to you." There was a moment of silence in which the warmth of him and his jacket were the only important things. "Who _is_ he, anyway? Did you leave a boyfriend back home only to start rubbing up on me?"

I chuckled. It was a low, breathless sound. "Tobi's my cousin," I told him. It was technically a lie, but it didn't feel like one. "And I haven't been _rubbing _up on you. I stomped on your cigarettes this morning."

"The end result is the same," Castiel said.

I rose an eyebrow. "So either way, you want my _bod_," I teased.

"Can't resist a damsel in distress."

"Fuck you, redhead," I huffed.

Castiel ruffled his own hair, exposing black roots. "It isn't natural, remember?"

I rolled my eyes. Castiel made me turn another corner. "Why'd you come after me?" I asked him, because I really was curious. I'd stayed calm and collected until I'd gotten to that empty classroom. I knew I had. There hadn't been any reason to follow me.

"Nathaniel followed you," he said, in a way that made it clear he was loath to say the blonde's name. "I...was curious."

"Curious?" I rolled my eyes. "Jealous."

Castiel rolled his eyes too. "I've known you for two days. I don't get jealous over someone I've known for less than a week. I don't get _jealous_."

I smiled ruefully. "Yeah, it should work that way, shouldn't it?" I murmured, thinking of the butterflies running rampant in my stomach and the anger that had coursed through my veins when I saw Amber sitting with him. "This day has been _eventful_."

"It isn't even over."

"Don't remind me," I groaned. "Why aren't you mad at me anymore? You seem like the type to hold a grudge."

Castiel turned a corner again, making this the third so far. "I usually am," he said. He didn't say anything else for a while, and the hallway was long. "But...you were shaking. Like an earthquake."

"You also don't seem like the type to worry."

Castiel sounded remorseful when he said the next six words. "You make me bend the rules," he murmured. He didn't sound happy about it; I understood the feeling—the feeling of moving too fast, too soon.

I smiled. "You were nice to me, so now I'm going to be nice to you," I said, grinning. I pressed my hand to my heart. "I solemnly swear upon all that is good that I will make you quit, one way or another."

"Quit?"

"Smoking."

"That again?"

I shrugged. "It's bad for you." I smelled the collar of the jacket for a second longer than I should. "I'm just glad it hasn't stuck to your jacket." We turned a corner and I realized we'd come full circle. I sighed, unzipping the jacket. "I... Thanks, Castiel."

He offered me a smirk and took the jacket from me. I swung the door open and walked back inside the cafeteria to Iris and her friends.

"What happened?" Peggy asked, true to the reporter displayed on her outside. She rose a perfectly arched brow, mild curiosity on her expression.

"Nothing," I lied. I took my seat and stuffed my face with the remainder of my chicken patty. "Just went to the bathroom."

Kim scanned the room. "Mr. Prez and object of his sister's favorite attentions left right after you," she informed me. "Both looked worried."

Iris smiled at me. "Maybe they got worried about _you_," she said. I pressed my lips together, trying not to let on how right she was.

Kim snorted. "Like those two don't hate each other enough already."

My brows knitted together, my eyes darting to where Nathaniel sat dejectedly with his school council. "They hate each other?" It hadn't seemed like it; they seemed to work well together when they were trying to put me back together again.

Melody looked at me, a bit shocked. Violette turned a page in her sketchbook and eyed me, then started again. Peggy said, "Like water and oil."

I took another bite and swallowed. "Why?"

Peggy snorted. "Don't ask me."

Kim supplied the answer. "Rumor is they used to be best friends," she whispered, as if they would somehow hear her. "Then they had a fallout sometime in middle school. No one knows why."

I pursed my lips. "Huh."

**:: ::**

Seventh period was Honors History. This class was a little behind my old class; they were just starting an essay I had done more than two weeks ago. I wondered if I had to do it, seeing as all my grades had been handed over to this new teacher, Miss Vega. I sat back while she explained the work and the essay, going slower for what I would guess was my benefit. Maybe my transcript hadn't been handed over just yet. I'd have to ask the principle; there was no way in hell I'd ask Nathaniel. I didn't want to see the pitying look in his eyes.

Would he tell? I wondered if the teachers knew. I hadn't caught any pity in their eyes; if they _did_ know, then I would have to thank them later for that. If they _didn't_, I might as well keep it that way.

I pressed my lips together and chewed on the end of my pen. It was a while before Miss Vega had completely explained the work; she retreated to her desk. I walked over to her, hands in my pockets, shifting my weight.

Miss Vega was older than you would think someone with the title "miss" would be, around her forties. She was chunky and had short, thin brown hair with matching brown eyes. She was tall, too, but everyone was tall to me. Throughout the whole period, as she explained the assignment, she had bantered with the students, calling herself the Queen of Room E13. She'd flicked them when they were stupid and teased them when she caught them talking between themselves instead of paying attention to her; she seemed like a nice lady.

Miss Vega looked up at me before I had even opened my mouth. She had kind brown eyes. "What can I do for you, Miss Sanders?" she asked.

I scratched the back of my neck. "I kinda...already did this essay," I told her, "so I was wondering if I'd have to do it again, or if you had the grade for it already, or if I could just hand you the essay I already wrote."

She tapped something in her old laptop—it was an old Dell, from when laptops were just coming out—and looked up at me with a smile. "You got a ninety-five," she said. My old history teacher was a tough grader, so that ninety-five was as close to a hundred as it could get with him; I was very proud of it. I tried not to think of the person who had helped me get it. "No, you don't have to do it again, but I don't know _what_ you'll do for the next three weeks; the essay's all I had planned."

I scanned the room; it was a cluttered mess. "I could help around here, collect papers, dust a bit," I offered. Miss Vega laughed. "And if you don't want that, I could help out at the library or music room."

"Sounds like a plan," Miss Vega said, smiling. "You could start now by helping me organize my desk." She motioned to the cluttered mess that was on top of her desk. "I am not an organized person."

I smiled. "Organization is for those too lazy to look for their things," I quoted Tobi.

Miss Vega snapped her fingers. "I like the way you think, Sanders."

I grinned. She seemed like a cool lady.

**:: ::**

Science was easy enough; it was a lab about sulfur that I had done already, too. Iris had the class with me; she'd called me as her partner and eagerly dug herself into the work. The lab had taken all of the class.

The last period was worth looking forward to; it was art class. I'd been torn between this one and music class, but my dad had reminded me that if I wanted a music lesson, all I would have to do is stop by the study, so I'd taken art. They were starting a new project today, so I'd gotten lucky. The teacher had assigned us paint types—watercolor, acrylic, and oil—and told us to paint whatever our hearts desired. I'd gotten lucky; she'd given me acrylic. It was no wonder the school was flat broke when you realized that this art room had state-of-the-art canvases for each of its students.

Iris wasn't in this class, but Violette was, and she looked completely in her element as she started to sketch out an acrylic-rendition of Michelangelo's _Saint Anthony_. She looked completely serene as she drew out the baby Saint Anthony was holding. It was calming to watch her at work, but I didn't; instead I started sketching out my own painting before painting it. It was supposed to be a woman's profile, bloody red tears spilling from her eyes, but I couldn't get the chin _just right_. I was so intent on it that I hadn't noticed that Amber had walked over next to my easel, followed by her itty bitty posse. She slapped the pencil out of my hand, making it fall across the classroom.

"Hey!" I complained, looking up to see that Amber's taller frame was standing next to me. It must really please her that she was seven inches taller than I was. "What was that for?"

"Like I need a _reason_, small fry," she snapped. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes shinning with pure fury. I wondered what she thought she could do to me. "I don't know _what_ you did to my brother, but I'm going to make goddamn _sure_ you pay for it," she growled at me. I wondered what she thought I did to her brother. I felt the tinge of guilt when I realized that he'd done me so many favors in just this one day, but that I yelled at him for pitying me.

I should apologize. It wasn't his fault, just human nature's. I tried reasoning with my feelings, but they stayed unshakeable.

I rolled my violet eyes at the blonde. "Good luck, sweet thing," I said sarcastically.

I saw the little Chinese girl twitch. The brunette glared at me. Did they even have permission to talk? I grabbed a pencil from my backpack and reshaped my drawing's chin. _There_. Amber shook with anger. "And _stay away_ from Castiel," she snarled. She sounded like a Chihuahua, small and nonthreatening, trying it's goddamn best to scare you shitless, but only making you laugh at the weird way it's bark was pitched.

I laughed. "I'll be friends with whoever I want to be friends with," I said nonchalantly. The painting's face was drawn, wide and crying; I moved to the hair. "Hey, Chihuahua," I called Amber, "do you know his favorite song?"

Amber scoffed. "Why would I tell _you_?" she retorted, wrinkling her nose. "He doesn't even _like _you."

I shrugged. It seemed as if she didn't know. I did. I've been finding things out about people without even asking for the entirety of my life, and Practice Makes Perfect, after all. I gave my drawing curled hair. I didn't turn to see Amber stomp her foot and storm away with her little crew.

**:: ::**

Leigh stopped me on my way home. All he did was say my name and look at me with huge, dark, innocent eyes. I melted like butter under that puppy-dog gaze. I was a master at it; having it used against me was uncomfortable, especially since he was so much better at it than I was. "Nathaniel says he's sorry," Leigh announced. "He says he also doesn't know what he did."

I felt bad that he had no idea why I was so pissed at him. I adjusted my bag on my back. "Tell him that he doesn't need to pity me, and that if he's going to apologize for something he doesn't know that he did, that I'd rather he came himself, so I could explain it to him," I told him. Then I smiled, a little thing to soften the mean edges of my face. "I'll come sometime this week, okay?"

"Call first," Leigh reminded me, smiling ruefully.

I turned and gave him my single over-the-shoulder wave. "Sure thing, fashionista."

**:: ::**

**All the girls who are friends with Iris are **_**not**_** mine; they are each one of the five****winners of the contest "Create a character**—**EXTRA**—**until 31 March 2011." You can see them all in the mycandylove wikia. The fifth girl will be introduced later on today. I might show you the painting that Alise is doing if you all review **_**really, really hard**_** because it does exist; my mommy painted it****—**_**not me**_** (she says bitterly). **

**I'd also like for you to review any of the parings that you might like throughout the story's ongoings. AlisexCastiel, AlisexNathaniel, AlisexLeigh, AlisexKentin, AlisexJade, AlisexDajan, AlisexDakota...whatever. I just want to see what you guys think. (**_**Please, please tell me**_**.) Oh, and if it wasn't obvious, Aunt Sarah is the mycandylove "fairy godmother."**


	6. Chapter 6

**:: ::**

Aunt Sarah was screaming into her phone when I got home. "No, I said vanilla—_vanilla_—not red velvet! Wait, don't you dare put me on hold! Great, I'm on hold!" she was saying. I'd never seen her so angry. Her cheeks were practically glowing red. She had a pen in one hand and a notepad in the other, her knuckles were white from gripping both items too harshly. For a second, it struck me exactly how different we looked. She was mixing pot of pinks and reds, her skin an ivory white. She and Mom were half sisters, and still they'd looked alike, with their pinkish-red eyes. Mom had been tanner than Sarah, though; they shared a mother, not a father. Sarah's dad had been Irish, I think, meanwhile Grandma was Puerto Rican. Granddad was English, so Mom and Auntie had shared a milky complexion. They'd looked similar in their dimpled grins and white skin. Meanwhile, my dad had shared Grandma's ethnicity; I had no milky white skin of which to speak. My eyes were purple like my father's and his dark hair, too. My skin was a dulled kind of brown, the result of being three-fourths Hispanic.

Where Aunt Sarah had bright pink hair that was miles long, I had dark black hair that didn't so much as reach my shoulders. Where she had red eyes and a natural blush, I had violet eyes and no blush. Where Sarah had a straight, elegant nose, mine was pert and small. Where Sarah's voice was professional, mine was loud.

No one would ever look at us and think, _Are they related?_It made me smile, how different I looked from someone so close in the family line. Unique, my dad would say.

I threw my bag to the side of the door and walked to the kitchen. "Welcome home, honey," Sarah greeted me. "There are flowers in there for you."

My brows knitted together. Who would send me _flowers_? Well, other than Kentin. It probably was him, being the creepy sweetheart that he was. I scanned the kitchen and saw the flowers right next to the sink. Pink poppies and red begonias. There was a card in the depths of the colorful flowers, hidden behind a scarlet begonia well enough that someone only idly looking at the arrangement wouldn't find. I pulled it out; the page was thick and heavy in my hands, folded in half, my name written in Helvetica on the front. It flipped open with a thick swish. It wasn't handwritten; the rolling Microsoft Word cursive font greeted me. _Poppies: Condolences, Begonias: Beware,_ it started. My lips pursed. The hell? _We are sorry for your loss. Beware of things incoming._

Excuse my language, but, the _fuck_? Who in hell would send a base full of flowers with a cryptic, unsigned note?

I stood there for a moment, staring at the note, then realized who could've sent it. Of course. It seemed her style; she and her little crew would send something like this to send shivers down my spine. Where they found the time to do it and how they got someone to deliver so quickly was beyond me, but I didn't put it past the blonde chick. She did say I would "pay." And the color scheme seemed her style too.

I rolled my eyes and took a deep whiff of the flowers. They'd look nice in the downstairs bathroom.

"No, I said vanilla—V-A-N-I-L-L-A!" Aunt Sarah shouted again, finally taken off hold. Her outrage was uncharacteristic. This wedding was pulling more out of her than every single other party she'd ever planned. It _was_ in less than two weeks. That bride was insane, and she was going to drive my aunt insane. "What the—? _No, I don't want chocolate!_" The cake people were crazier.

I rolled my eyes. Poor Auntie Sarah, she was going to lose her mind.

I grabbed my bookbag and headed upstairs; homework awaited.

**:: ::**

It was seven when Lizzy called. I was on. I was on my bed, finishing the song "Curse of Curves" acoustically. I needed to find out where this place has a library, otherwise I would get sick of playing guitar. While I didn't think that was possible, I didn't want to test it out.

"Alise!" she said, sounding like she could decide to be angry, concerned, or happy.

"Yes, McGuire?" I asked, looking around my room for something to do while I talked. I could probably go downstairs and cook, seeing as Aunt Sarah was still busy. Besides, I hadn't had a proper porkchop in weeks. I brushed aside a strand of hair that has fallen onto my eyes.

"You could've called me this morning!" she insisted. Angry was the decided-upon emotion. I rolled my eyes and clicked on the plasma screen. "I would've woken up!"

I sighed. "Liz, be honest with yourself," I said, smirking. "If the world burned down and everyone was screaming for help, you'd turn around and dig your head into the pillow and ignore everything."

I could picture Lizzy pursing her lips. "Shut up," she grumbled. I heard the loud scream of bed springs, as if she'd jumped down on her bed. I listened to her, aware of the show playing in the background of my room. "So," she said. "Tobiah said some dude answered your phone." She was smart not to mention when he called, and I silently thanked her for it. "Who was he?" Lizzy wondered, dragging the words out like the gossip she was.

I felt my cheeks heat up. "His name is Castiel."

"Duh," she stated. "Tobi told me _that_. But who _is_ he? Does Alise have a boyfriend?" She dragged out the words again, hiding a giggle behind them.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I've been here exactly one week and met exactly eleven people teenagers—three of which who hate me—but yeah, I already have a boyfriend. Sure, Lizzy. Of course," I scoffed.

I could imagine her shrugging. "You're a pretty girl," she said flippantly. I rolled my eyes again, staying silent, letting her _feel_exactly how stupid she was being. "Anyway, what's this you say about being hated? What happened?"

"Eh," I responded. The flowers sprung to mind. "She's one of _those_ girls, and of course she's got a posse, so you know."

Lizzy snorted. "Speaking of _those_ girls, Melanie's back on top of the social heirarchy," she growled. Melanie was the Amber of my old school. Actually, _Amber_ was the Melanie of Sweet Amoris High. She had a crush on Tobi once. After she found out I was his "cousin," she freaked out and backed off.

"So kick her down to size," I said, as if it were the single most simple thing in the world. "Aren't you Lizzy McGuire?"

Lizzy scoffed. "No, actually, I'm Tangelina Dixon, a blonde nicknamed after another blonde who's socially inept." Her voice was amused. "Don't tell me you forgot my real name?"

"Nope," I said, popping the P. "I just really like to hear you say your name. Tang_elin_a."

"Oh shut up," she huffed. Then she said, "Besides, that wasn't your best argument. Lizzie McGuire was notorious for being bullied by one of _those_girls."

"Neh, true."

It was silent for a bit. Then Lizzy aha'd. "I asked you about that boyfriend you got!" she said, like she'd just remembered.

I groaned. "I don't have a boyfriend!"

Lizzy tsked. "So says she," she muttered under her breath. I could picture her rolling her navy blue eyes. "But anyway—Kentin's there? He _followed_ you to another school in another _state_?"

I scowled. "Don't remind me."

"What is wrong with that boy?" she insisted. Back home, she used to pull her student body president weight around and order others—under threat or under bribe—to keep Ken away from me for as long as possible. She always thought some wire was loose in Ken's thick head. "Did you tell anyone?"

"Didn't have to," I sighed. I winced as Michael Kyle said something about a hot dog trick, remembering the little scene in computer class. "Remember when I told you the class president was next to me and you whined about _you_being it?" Lizzy hummed in agreement. "Ken was there; the clothing shop owner called him a stalker."

"The clothing shop owner goes to high school and is the class president? I think you have more to worry about than Ken."

I laughed. "No, he's eighteen. He quit school to run a clothing shop, then came back to graduate high school and go to fashion school." Wow that was a weird sentence. "And he's not the school prez, his friend Nathaniel is."

"Nathaniel?" she asked. "President Nathaniel? Well. At least it's better than President Tangelina." I don't know what she had against the name Nathaniel, but I knew I didn't want to be there if she ever met the poor sucker with that name. "Does he at least go by Nate?"

I thought for a second. "I don't know, I've never tried. No one calls him that."

Lizzy groaned. "Those are the worse kind of Nathaniels, and Nathaniels by themselves are pretty bad."

I shrugged. "Eh, he kind of reminds me of you," I admitted. My anger was simmering. That was probably because I couldn't exactly remember the shimmer of pity in his eyes. When I did, I was sure I would boil over. But for now… "He's blond and professional."

Lizzy gasped, taking offense. "When the hell did I become _professional_? I thought you were my friend!"

I laughed. "Oh, Liz, really, you are too funny."

"Damn it, Alise, I thought you loved me!" she shouted, making me pull the phone back from my ear. "You don't compare me to a Nathaniel, that's just not what friends _do_!"

I laughed again. "What is it you have against the name Nathaniel?"

"I don't know!" Lizzy shouted, sounding upset with herself. "I _really_ don't know! I just _hate_it!"

"You are a riot, McGuire," I chuckled. I sighed. "What's up with you?"

Lizzy thought for a second. "Well, now that you and your bat are gone, Tobi's been falling on me to fight off all his fangirls," she said. I heard her groan. "What do they see in him?!" she asked me, her voice high. "Who taught girls to sharpen their nails?! Alise, I have seven different nail-prints on my upper arm from when seven different girls _yanked_ me from your cousin's side and started oh-so-subtly _rubbing their bodies up and down his side._My god, I thought they were raping him. Alise, their laughs—oh my god, their laughs were like moans. And they were doing it deliberately! Alise, I think I'm going to stop hanging out with Tobi. There's too much baggage! Too much, Alise, too much!"

I giggled. "What did you expect?"

"I expected the bat to be a fashion statement!" Lizzy shrieked.

"No such luck, hon."

"Yeah! Figured!" Lizzy sighed. "That boy should come with a warning sticker: _Beware, girls are inexplicably attracted to this lump of muscle! Befriend at own risk!_"

Did I mention I loved this chick? I laughed again.

Lizzy continued, "And I swear to you, if Melanie pops another button on that blouse of hers, we're going to see her bra. That girl's a whore." She sighed; I knew she was rolling her eyes. "Good news though! She's switched to guys again, so I won't have to worry about her hitting on me again."

"Do you really think she's bi?"

Lizzy scoffed. "No," she answered quickly. "She does it for show. I think the only bi person in this school is still Rodger." Rodger was a hot nerd-whore with a Pokémon obsession. "He got together with Adeline again, and then with Clyde. Then they all got together, if you know what I mean."

"Hope they had fun," I said dryly, "because I'm sure they're gonna catch them all."

Lizzy laughed. "Damn right they are. Although I wouldn't mind a roll in the hay with him."

"Yeah, and I wouldn't mind a roll in the hay with Dr. Franken Stein, but that's not happening," I snorted.

Lizzy thought for a second. "That anime guy who experiments on himself? The one with the nail in his head? You've got really creepy fantasies, you know that?"

"Shut up! Point is, it's not happening!"

I could almost hear Liz shake her head. "I'm going to forget about how weird you are for a second and instead tell you that my mom said it was okay for me to visit."

I gasped. "Really?"

"Yup," she said, sounding as happy as I felt. "First week of summer, I'm on a plane. All we have to do is convince your aunt."

"All I'd have to do is ask," I told her. "She's flipping over backwards to make me comfortable." I shouldn't use that, really I shouldn't, but what could I say? I'm a teenage girl; I can't help myself.

"Good," she said, sounding satisfied. "Well, I've got to go. My brother's begging for lunch and if I don't give it to him, I can say goodbye to our summer plan."

"Tell Joey hi for me."

"Will do. Peace."

**:: ::**

Nathaniel sat next to me. His hazel eyes didn't have a hint of pity in them, and for that I was glad. He just looked sad. "Hey," he greeted, looking up from his backpack to me. "Listen, I'm sorry about yesterday. I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry I got you upset. I didn't know about your parents. I'm sorry."

I shrugged, leaning back into my chair. Its legs complained. "Don't worry about it," I assured, kicking my boots onto the desk. "I overreacted. It's just…" I trailed off, not finishing the sentence. I played with the buttons on my boots. I was silent for a long while, and I knew he was waiting for me to say something. I shook my head. "Forget about it, okay?" I smiled at him, throwing my feet back onto the floor. "Tell me how that fundraiser is coming along."

Nathaniel smiled back. "We're sending out flyers soon," he said. My eyes widened in surprise. They put that together fast. Either they knew they needed that money _fast_, or they were an efficient group of people. "Friday April eighteenth."

I nodded. "What time?" I wondered, remembering my promise to show up and help out.

Nathaniel seemed overjoyed to be talking about his handiwork as student body president. "Right after school, around three thirty, until seven thirty."

I smiled at him. "I'll be there," I promised.

Nathaniel stayed quite. I turned back to my desk, ready to doodle on something, when Leigh came into the room in all his Victorian-era clothing. He came up and sat on my other side, and scanned me. His face was entirely professional until he smiled at my shoes. "Victorian?" he asked, voice silent, nodding at my feet.

I shrugged and smiled at him. "What can I say?" I answered, pulling on the top of the boots and adjusting them around my calves. "You've inspired me. I'll be in tomorrow with a powdered wig and a hoop skirt." I grinned at him.

"I'll have you fitted," he offered, joking. He was wearing striped slacks, a purple tie to go with his white shirt and black overcoat, and a top hat. I reached out for the top hat, but he pulled it off and held it on the side where I couldn't reach. He offered me a smirk. "Hands off, little one."

I rolled my eyes at him. First midget from Tobi and now "little one" from Leigh. "Can I _at least_try it on?" I begged.

"No," he said sternly.

I widened my eyes. "Why?" I cried. "I mean really! Why do you wear such cool outfits if you don't want people asking you if they can try them on!"

Leigh chuckled at me. He put his hat back on. "If you'd buy from my store, perhaps I'd rethink my decision," he said.

I crossed my arms. "You marketing _fiend_," I accused, and Leigh rolled his eyes at me.

**:: ::**

I noticed Peggy was in my Honors English class. I don't know why I hadn't realized that before; she was actually quite noticeable. She always rose her hand and shouted out answers, scoffed when someone got the most obvious parts of writing wrong. The class had apparently written stories and edited others', and today was the day they were going to share what they thought. Peggy had jumped up when O'Neil asked for volunteers to go first. She leaned against the whiteboard and eyed the person whose paper she's edited. "It was _horrible_," she announced strongly. "I mean, how do you _not_ know that the punctuation goes _inside_ the quotation marks, Jade? And grammar! Your means _belonging_ to you, you're means _you are._ Oh, and I before E, okay?" she ranted. She was smiling good-naturedly, though her arms were crossed and it was obvious she was very serious. "Last but not least, a period _inside_ the quotation means the end of a sentence. You _do not_, by any means, end said quotation and continue on a lower-case letter!"

Peggy took a breath and uncrossed her arms, then smiled at the guy who looked like a garden—green hair, green eyes—and walked back to her seat. The garden-guy looked back, pretending to be insulted. "You're mean!" he gasped at her.

Peggy shrugged. "It's all about tough love, babe," she said.

It went like that. The Honors class was small, though, so there weren't many people to go. It was all as expected when people came up front to present. All the sweaty fingers and awkward stuttering, the confident voices and strong eye-locks. I was grouped with the former myself, but apparently Peggy and her green-haired friend weren't. I stayed silent in the back of the room, toying with my pen and listening in. If the period were longer, I was sure I would have ended up rereading my Steampunk books. As it was, the class was forty minutes long and by the time the last person finished, the bell was ringing.

I was planning on catching up with Peggy when Mr. O'Neil called me over. I grabbed the straps of my bag and shifted my weight. "Yes, sir?" I asked. The next class was spilling in already.

"Miss Sanders," he said, folding his hands on his desk, "you are new here, yes? Just moved in with your aunt, Sarah Ward?" He had the slightest Irish accent. My aunt was well-known in this school, apparently. I wondered how long these teachers had been teaching here. Did they remember my mom too? I didn't want to know. I shook my head inwardly at myself and nodded at my teacher. "I was friends with your grandparents," he said, as if it should make me feel better about talking to him. "I was just wondering if you and your aunt were okay."

"Why?" I pointed my thumb back to my seat and looked back and forth between it and O'Neil. "Was I acting off?" I wondered. I knew what he was hinting at. I just didn't want to answer it. Life would be so much better if I just acted oblivious.

The teacher unfolded his hands. "I know this must be hard for you, but if you need someone to—"

"If I need someone to talk to, I can talk to my friends," I snapped. I didn't need this from a man I'd just met. I paused. "Sir," I added as an afterthought. I crossed my arms and took a deep breath. Pity and worry mingled in his brown eyes. I swallowed down my anger. "Listen, sir, I just want to forget about it. Okay?" I didn't wait for his answer, and took another deep breath. "Do any of the other teachers know?"

O'Neil looked up at me from his desk. He studied me for a second. "No, just me. Your aunt told me."

A shaky breath escaped me. "Can we keep it like that?"

The teacher studied me again, then nodded his head, and I raced out of the door and into the courtyard, putting my headphones in on the way and playing Panic! At the Disco's Nine in the Afternoon, just because it always calmed me. I didn't look up when I got to the courtyard, just sat on a bench and stared at my iPhone. There were a few minutes of blessed silence until someone patted my shoulder.

An unexpected smile broke across my face when I saw Castiel, the sun forming a halo around his head. "Are you ever in class?" I asked, hating myself for the way my voice came out of my mouth: Relieved and calm.

"Not unless it's music class," he answered, his voice deep and smooth like hot chocolate. A melody of its own. I sighed at myself, turning to stare at the white school sign. Castiel took a seat next to me, the warmth of his body wrapping around me like a hug. He wasn't close enough to smell, and for that I was glad; his scent would be the death of me. "What's with you? You stormed in here like a typhoon."

I pressed my lips together and ran my hand through my hair. I never did much with it, so it floated over my shoulders in tight ringlets. I pushed my glasses up on the bridge of my nose and sighed. "Nothing," I muttered, listening as a bird squawked.

Castiel rose a brow. "Nothing?"

"Nothing if you count my English teacher offering a shoulder to cry on nothing," I admitted. I hated how he didn't have to insist too hard. Or maybe I hated how willing I was to answer him.

"Ah," he sighed. "Oliver?"

"O'Neil."

Castiel made a face. "The guys a pedophile," he said.

I laughed, albeit bitterly. "Every school has one," I told him. "My old school's pedobear was a Mrs. Will. She was the principal."

"How old was she?"

"Too old and too ugly to be a MILF, if that's what you want to know," I told him, smiling slightly.

Castiel shrugged. "Too bad," he said. "Good job at changing the subject."

I shrugged, too. "What can I say?"

It was silent for a long while. It wasn't uncomfortable. Just quite. The warmth of his body was wonderful and I wondered what he would do if I asked him for his jacket again, not because I was cold but just to be able wear it. What would it be like to be under his arm right now? The strong muscle of his arm over my shoulder, keeping me close. His hands were big; I was sure they'd engulf my own. They were corse from playing guitar, that I knew. I hated how much I wanted to hold his hand, how much I wanted him to hold me. Damn PMS. Hell, if I were to be honest with myself, I knew the PMS wasn't to blame too much; it was _him_. Damn Castiel.

I looked up at him—the sharp plane of his mouth, the soft curl of his lips, the grayness of his sharp eyes, the crinkles in his leather jacket, the chain on his black jeans. Yeah. Defiantly him. Damn him.

The soft deepness of his laugh made me blink. "We match," he said. I looked down at myself. I was wearing a black V-neck shirt with a design like red splashes of paint, a black shirt that was just _barely_to dress code, along wry the calf-length Victorian boots Leigh had complemented me on. He was wearing a pair of black jeans with that ever-present chain of his, his worn leather jacket, and a blood-red shirt. It was his usual outfit, seeing as he always wore something similar. Yesterday it'd been gray-wash skinnies with a blank red shirt. This shirt had Asking Alexandra.

I chuckled. "So we do," I said, smiling. I stretched my legs and crossed them again. Castiel let out a whistle. His gray eyes ran up and down my legs, sending a wave of butterflies into my stomach. "Yeah," I said, feeling incredibly proud of them. "Aren't they pretty? Go on, touch them. You know you want to."

Castiel rolled his eyes and laughed. "You are something else, you know that, Alise?"

"That's what all my friends say," I giggled. I smoothed over my skirt. "Although Amber calls me emo-dweeb. Oh—and small fry, can't forget small fry!"

"I take it Amber's been bothering you?"

I snorted. "If she'd been bothering me, I would have taken care of it, trust me," I answered. "No, she's been _threatening_ me. If it were over something stupid, I wouldn't bring it up." I leaned up to his ear and, in a mock whisper, said, "Don't tell anyone, but I think she has a crush on you."

Castiel rose a brow. His razor-edged frown was the one thing to tell me he was angry. "She's been threatening you over _me_?"

"Nah," I answered. "She threatened me over Nathaniel—she just warned me over you." I smiled. "Practice Makes Perfect is your favorite song, right?" He blinked at me, wondering what the hell that had to do with Amber. He neither confirmed nor denied it, just shrugged. I smiled. "Does she know that?"

"No," he answered. "Why would she know that?"

I shrugged. "Why do I know that?" I asked back. He stared at me with his brown-gray eyes for a second, then looked away, eyes staring at the huge white sign. I sighed. A dog yapped in the distance, reminding me of the principal's dog, the one that had been so busy with a chew toy that I'd only noticed him in the back of my mind. He looked kind of like a wiener-dog, longhaired chihuahua mix. "I used to have a dog," I told Castiel, taking a deep breath and sighing.

Castiel rose a brow again. "Oh?" he asked idly.

I nodded. "His name was Tarzan." I smiled. "He was the _sweetest_German Shepard ever. The second you messed with my cousin or I, though, he turned into a murderer." I thought for a second, remembering how he'd rolled onto his back and begged for belly rubs. "What about you, do you have a dog?"

"A Belgian Shepard," he responded. He smiled, just a little bit.

"A big one?" Big dogs were the best to cuddle with, plus they were amazing pillows.

"Huge. His name's Demon."

I smirked. "I would make a smart comment, but I can't remember one song right now that talks about dogs and demons," I said regretfully. Then I grinned. "Although I do want to sing Highway to Hell right now." Castiel rolled his eyes at me, but I knew from the slight twitch of his lips that he was _at least_amused by the thought. "What color is he? Black or cream?"

"Black."

"I should meet him."

Castiel made a sound _almost_ like a snort. He stretched his legs, and the buckles on his boots clanged. "He doesn't like people."

I shrugged. "I'm not people," I contradicted, "I'm a doggie-lover."

Castiel tsked. "That'll make a difference," he snorted.

The wind blew. It was just the sound of our breathing and a dog's distant yapping—which was getting closer. The dog whizzed past us, looking like a hairy little bullet. Stubby legs went a long way, if you had four of them. Huh. It looked like a prisoner finally getting out. Mrs. Wan Gong raced after him—her?—while her belted pink suit bounced around her. Her face was red and her glasses were sliding off her face. Her gray bun was coming undone. She gasped for her breath, resting her little hands on her weak knees. She huffed, blowing a gray strand out of her face and coming to a stand. Then looked up to face Castiel and I. "You!" she shouted at us, the veins in her eyes were red. I blinked, pointing at myself. "Yes, _you_! You saw my Kiki, didn't you? She came though here, so you saw her, and you didn't stop her! You had better find her, Miss Sanders, or you're suspended!"

What the hell!? "Um… I've got to go to class…" I reminded her. This was a school, not a pet sitter.

"I will excuse you myself when you _find her_!" Mrs. Wan Gong shouted at me, the sweet lady I met a few days ago gone from every fiber of her being. She huffed and swiveled on her heels, stomping away.

I blinked, shocked, for a moment. There was a moment of stunned silence after that. Then: "What just happened?"

Castiel stood up and turned to face me. "What happened is Wan Gong found a way to shove her losing her mutt onto the unsuspecting new girl," he said, not sounding the least bit surprised. He ran a hand through his red hair, exposing black roots again.

"I'm going to have to find her, aren't I?" I asked aloud, to no one in particular.

"Afraid so."

I sighed, pointing in direction of the garden. "That way, right?"

"Go, scamper off, find the dog."

I widened my eyes at him and pouted. "Help me?"

Castiel let out a loud, sarcastic laugh. "You wish, don't you?"

"I really, really do."

He waved me off.

**:: ::**

I missed third period chasing after that damned dog. What the hell was a dog doing in a school anyway? A supervisor would have to intervene somehow, I mean really! Aren't some kids allergic to dogs? What the hell? Kiki had long fur, she _wasn't_ hypoallergenic! How does an animal with such _short_ legs run so goddamned _fast_? Where could I learn to do that? Because the way the doggie hunt was going, I sure as hell was going to need it! Pounce on the little mix-breed and drag her to Wan Gong by the goddamned ear if I could! And where the hell did that principal get off, anyway? I was a student, not a slave! I shouldn't even be here! I should be back home, dammit! As if that weren't enough, I was behind in math class, I didn't need to fall behind even more!

The only "Kiki Clue," as I had oh-so-wittingly called them, was a leash in the garden. I won't even ask how that dog got it off; I really didn't want to know. I was stomping around the hallways between bells when Amber ran into me.

There was an angry look in her teal eyes; it took me a moment to realize they were teal when last time they were hazel. She flipped her hair and, when untried to push past her, held her arm out to stop me. "You really are pathetic," she told me.

I took a deep breath. "Amber, back up, I'm not in the mood for you."

She ignored me. Her posse laughed at me a bit. "Do you know _why_ you're pathetic?" she continued anyway. "You spend your time hitting on my _brother_, then turn around and flirt with a _shopkeep,_ and _then_ you go put the moves on my _boyfriend_! No, in fact, you're more than pathetic! In fact, you're a whore! A fat whore who can't do anything but hit on guys that _don't like you_!" Amber took a breath.

I took that opportunity to fly in on her like a vulture. "Okay, listen here, Blondie," I said exasperatedly. I crossed my arms. "I'm sorry if I happen to be friends with your brother. I'm sorry that I think Leigh is a good guy. I'm sorry if you've deluded yourself into thinking Castiel's your boyfriend. And I'm sorry you can't _stand_ that someone like me is upstaging you in a play I didn't know existed. And guess what else? I am so goddamn sorry you need to make others feel bad about themselves to make yourself feel good about yourself. Because you know what that means? It means you _know_ you're a selfish bitch who can do _shit_ by herself and on her own without making others feel bad. It means you're an asshole and you _know_ it. It means you _know_ you won't have any friends unless you intimidate them. And I feel sorry for you _and_everyone who's ever had to come in contact with you." I glared at her. "Now, excuse me!" I shouted, pushing past her and stomping into the council room.

Nathaniel and his student body friends were working something out about the fundraiser: Whether or not to make it a boy vs girl thing. I was going to ask him if he'd seen Kiki when I spotted the dog's collar on the floor next to a chair leg. I went over to pick it up and went out of the room again, leaving in my wake a confused student body government.

Kiki Clue number two.

I found the third one with no confrontation or anger. I was walking around the bushes, wondering if perhaps she'd fallen asleep in the shade. It was the green squeaky toy. I sat on the inch tall brick fence and squeaked it, the high-pitched sound was oddly calming—it stopped me from trying to kill the next person to look at me funny. _Squeak…squeak…squeak…_ My knuckles were turning white, nails digging into my palm. _Squeak…squeak…squeak…_ My breathing was slowing. _Squeak…squeak…squeak._ Two creamy paws landed on my knee, the undersides soft. _Squeak…squeak…squeak…_ Kiki's tongue lolled out from the side of her muzzle; she looked absolutely entranced. I smiled. _Squeak…squeak…squeak…_ I unraveled the collar and leash from my forearm and clicked it close around her furry neck. She jumped onto my lap. I laughed and dug my face into her white neck fur. I praised her for a second, thanking her for finally popping up.

I'd missed lunch and all the classes since then. All I had left was art. Which was my favorite. It struck me how I hadn't seen Iris or any of the other girls all day. I'd been surrounded by guys all day. I needed a feminine touch today.

I went into the principal's office and placed Kiki on her velvet pillow, saying not so much as a word to Mrs. Wan Gong. I just nodded at her thank-yous and walked into art class, damn glad people were just getting their canvases ready. I set up next to Violette, mixing my colors with a sigh.

"Where've you been all day?" she asked silently. It was the firs time I'd heard her talk. Her voice was soft, like cotton.

"The principal lost her dog and made me spend all day looking for it," I answered exasperatedly. I drew in the theater masks, happy and sad. Violette let out a low _ah,_ and started sketching out background. I started with vines and roses. Faceless ballerinas in the corner. Then I started to paint the woman's eyes blue. It took me a while to get the shading just right on the painting, and that time unknotted the muscles in my back. I would stop every now and then, watching Violette's face as she drew. It was serene and comforting, silent. Everything I wasn't right now. It made me grin, how different we were; just like Sarah and I. Everyone here was so pale. I guess that happened when you were so far away from the beach; it was like three hours away.

I started up with the girl's skin with a grin on my face.

**:: ::**

I went to Aunt Sarah's house and texted Leigh. I'd done exactly nothing yesterday and had exactly nothing to do today. What better way to spend my time than getting fitted for a corset? Leigh told me to come over in ten minutes and that's what I did, crossing a few streets to enter his store. It was nice in there, with the smell of lilac and roses. Sarah had brought me in here to buy a pair of pajamas the first day I was here. Everything was vaguely familiar. Girls looking through racks, guys begrudgingly holding their purses. The usual. Leigh was behind the counter, leaning on his elbow. That was rather surprising; I'd expected him to be helping girls pick out the best-fitting shirts. He offered me a half smile.

"Hey," I said, waving a two finger salute at him.

Leigh nodded at me and called for a guy named Lysander. The guy with the heterochromia who sat next to Castiel. He was wearing Victorian clothes too, with a ruffled collar and vest. "Lysander, this is Alise; Alise, this is my brother Lysander," Leigh said. I knew there'd been _some_ resemblance. I stuck my hand out to shake his; Lysander was slow to shake mine, quick to pull it away. "Man the register while I get her lengths."

When Lysander nodded, Leigh led me through a curtained arc into a room with a three-sided mirror on a pedestal. A silver-haired girl sat there, reading a book: _Remember Me._ "Ooh," I said, walking in to stand next to her. "That's a really good book, I loved it."

She closed it and smiled up at me. She stood up and extended her hand to me. "I'm Rosalya," she said. She was _really_ tall, and her hair was _really_ long. Her eyes were a glimmering golden color.

I took her hand and shook it. "I'm Alise."

Rosalya nodded. "As I suspected," she said, "you're pretty." I knitted my eyebrows together. She smiled widely, closing her eyes in the process. "He's gonna ask you to take your shirt off." She laughed, eyeing Leigh. Leigh turned a bright red. "I'm going to have to ask you to keep your breasts inside your bra and not stand so straight."

I rose a brow. "And you weren't gonna buy me dinner first?" I asked Leigh. "Aren't you a bit cocky?"

Rosalya laughed. Leigh flushed red. He cleared his throat. "I really do need you to take your shirt off though. I need undisturbed measurements," he told me, trying to be professional while his ears burned scarlet. Rosalya pointed from her eyes to mine in the famous _I'm watching you_ signal. I laughed as I lifted my shirt over my head, exposing a black bra. I should be uncomfortable; I wasn't. If I were in a bikini, I'd be showing off more than this bra did.

"Don't stare too long," Rosalya teased, though Leigh was getting his measuring tape already. He gave her a fake, dry laugh. Rosalya turned to me. "Keep still and try not to breathe. If you do, he'll just use the tape to choke the air out of you."

I made a gurgled sound. "That doesn't sound pleasant."

Leigh came back to wrap the measuring tape around my waist. "It isn't," he said monotonously. He tightened the tape around me until the edges sliced into my skin, making me suck my stomach in tighter to keep from having it cut into me. "See?"

"Okay," I gasped breathlessly, "I see."

Leigh smirked at me.

"I'm going to read my book," Rosalya announced, holding her book up, "you better not be making out with my poor, unsuspecting boyfriend when I look up."

I gasped in a breath when Leigh let up on the measuring tape. "He almost air-drowned me—no trouble there, Rosalya."

She rose a long, thin brow. "So you're saying he's pretty?" she accused teasingly.

I shrugged. "Don't know how that connects, but yeah," I admitted. "Your boyfriend's handsome."

Rosalya laughed. "If you'd stuttered a no, I'd be worried about you," she said, and dived into her book.

Leigh took a deep breath and measured the length of my torso. We must be wearing down on his masculinity.

**:: ::**

**Okay. So, my laptop broke down and I don't know when I'm going to get it back, so I won't be updating as much, seeing as I'm writing this on my iPod and editing it on the family desktop. _Do not kill me_. I _like_ life. I stayed up all night writing this, because inspiration took over and I couldn't help myself. It is 5:30 as I write this on Friday, August 24, 2012—_my birthday_. My birthday. _My birthday_. Do you not get this? _It is my 14__th__ birthday right now as I type this and I expect thousands of reviews;_ I don't want "happy birthday," I want "this part was my favorite," "I liked so-and-so," "You should do so-and-so." _Do me that favor._**

**Goodbye and good reading.**


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